


A Thing of Beauty

by the_purple_pen



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dominance, Gay, Gay Sex, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Original Character(s), Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-05-31 09:12:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 53,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15116318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_purple_pen/pseuds/the_purple_pen
Summary: When Coen sees a beautiful man, he can't help but want him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in the same universe as "A Stranger in a Strange Land".

“Coen! Just the man I wanted to see.” Reid extended his hand to his friend. “Great venue. Mel and I can’t thank you enough for arranging this for us. The last minute cancellation had us both in a tailspin.”

“Glad I could be of help. I’m glad that the gallery owner was agreeable,” Coen replied with a humble smile. He looked around the art gallery now filled with the guests who were attending the annual gathering for the members of Reid’s exclusive club, R.A.C.K. “It’s a good fit. Gives everyone something nice to look at, other than themselves,” he added as he turned his attention back to Reid. 

“Beautiful building. One of yours, no doubt.” Reid snagged a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. 

“Thank you, yes. I do like the modern design of it.” Coen waved away the offer of a drink for himself. “Let me know when you are ready to expand. I have the perfect location for you in North London.”

Reid shook his head as he finished swallowing. “Not so sure I’m ready for that yet, but I am thinking of finding another place for me and Matt. I think we are both ready for a separate living space away from the club.”

Coen nodded in agreement. “That’s great. Let’s set up an appointment for next week so I can find out more about what you’re wanting. But for now, this is your party and I should stop monopolizing your time,” he said with a smile. 

“I suppose I should mingle. And you should mingle. You might find something nice to look at. Other than the art.” Reid smirked and lifted his glass in salute before strolling away to greet another group of his guests. 

Chuckling under his breath, Coen decided to take his friend’s advice and turned to go do some exploring himself. 

/ / / / /

Simon wandered around a corner, wandering the labyrinth layout of the gallery in search of a bathroom. He spied a familiar face and wound his way through the freestanding installations and groups of chatting guests until he could slide up next to his friend. “Hey Matt,” he said, gently touching the other man’s arm to get his attention.

“Simon, hey!” Matt said, turning to hug him in greeting. “Good to see you. I wasn’t sure if you and Samuel would be here tonight.” 

“I wasn’t sure either,” Simon said, “but Samuel decided it would be good for business. Reid certainly knows how to put on an event,” he said, gesturing to the space.

“You know Reid, nothing but the best and a flair for the dramatic. This suits him perfectly,” Matt grinned. “I’ve missed seeing you at the club, we need to grab drinks sometime and catch up.” 

Simon nodded and forced a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Definitely,” he said, keeping things casual and non-committal. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen the loo. I keep getting lost trying to find it and all the dark corners that look promising just seem to be filled with people making out.” He hoped the joke would distract Matt from the lack of concrete plans.

“Oh sure,” Matt said, glancing around. “It’s… there,” he said pointing over Simon’s shoulder. 

“Thanks. I”ll catch up with you later,” Simon said, slipping away through the crowd with a wave. 

/ / / / /

Coen moved slowly through the gallery, passing small groups of people who were talking and laughing as they shared their stories. Reid had been right. There were some nice things to look at - scantily clad young men with inviting stares. The evening had only just begun and there was more to see so Coen kept moving. 

Pausing at the open bar long enough to get a glass of sparkling water, Coen scanned the spaces around him as he waited for his drink. In the far corner, he noticed a young man staring at a large painting. Coen perused the room again until the waiter returned with his water. He took the glass and walked toward the young man who was seemingly entranced by the floor to ceiling work of art. 

“Is it the color or the shapes?” Coen asked as he approached him. 

“I’m sorry?” Simon said, a hint of confusion on his face. “The color or the shapes what?”

“The painting,” Coen said as he gestured toward the art covering the wall. “You’ve been staring at it for a while so I was wondering what it was that you found most intriguing about it. The color. Or the shapes.”

“Oh. Actually I was just lost in thought,” Simon said, turning his attention back to the canvas. “But now that you mention it, the shapes definitely.” 

“It’s a good painting for thinking,” Coen smiled as he openly perused the other man instead of the canvas. He was about the same height as Coen, 6’, slender fit build, dark brown hair, cut short and neat. And brown eyes that seemed sad. 

“So color or shapes?” Simon asked, glancing over at the other man. “What appeals to you?”

“Shapes. Definitely shapes,” Coen responded as he continued to keep his gaze focused on the young man.

Simon acknowledged the look and then turned back to the painting. “Are you interested in art or just here for the party?”

“Both actually. I am interested in art. And what’s not to like about a good party?” Coen smiled. 

“I suppose that’s true. I’m Simon,” he said, turning to face the other man. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Simon. I’m Coen,” he said, holding his glass in his left hand as he extended his right hand.

Simon shook his hand. “So Coen, is this painting going home with you tonight?”

Coen glanced at the painting for only a moment before looking back at Simon. “No, not the painting. But I am hoping to not go home empty-handed tonight.”

“There are plenty of beautiful things here to covet,” Simon said, casually tugging on the collar of his shirt to reveal the heavy silver chain that lay around his neck. “Even if you can’t take them all home.” 

Coen exhaled a sigh of resignation at the sight of the collar around Simon’s neck. Of course a man as attractive as him was already claimed. “That is true,” he agreed. 

“Maybe something on a smaller scale,” Simon said, turning his attention back to the painting. “I doubt you have an appropriately sized empty wall for this one.” 

“Actually…” Coen grinned. “I do have a wall. That wall,” he said, gesturing toward the wall where the painting hung.

Simon gave him a puzzled look. “That wall?”

“Yes. That’s my wall. I own the building,” Coen explained. 

“Oh,” Simon said, one eyebrow raised. “Then I guess you are allowed to covet the painting.” 

Coen laughed. “Just the wall. The painting belongs to the gallery. I own the building; they rent the space.” He found himself staring at Simon again as they talked. “So you are here with someone?” 

“I am.” Simon thoughtfully glanced around at the space. “Are you in real estate?”

“I am.” Coen echoed. The fact that Simon had quickly steered the conversation away from himself had not escaped Coen’s notice.

“I’ve been told I should look into real estate as an investment strategy. I take it that is what you do?” Simon’s gaze fell back onto Coen’s face. 

“Real estate is my primary focus, yes.” Coen returned Simon’s stare. “And as an investment, I would recommend it as well.”

“How did you learn the ropes?” Simon asked. 

Coen smirked. “Are we still talking about real estate?”

Simon blushed. “We are,” he said softly. 

Coen took a deep breath. The sight of the color on Simon’s cheeks only fanned the flame of his interest in the young man. “My father. He’s in the business and he taught me everything he knows.”

“Ah. So learned wisdom passed along to someone worthy. You must be pretty successful if you own a place like this.” 

“I do okay,” Coen admitted. 

Simon glanced across the room and stiffened suddenly. “It was nice to meet you Coen,” he said, taking a small step backward. “But I should really be going.” 

“It was a pleasure meeting you…” Curious about the sudden change in Simon’s demeanor, Coen looked over his shoulder. He didn’t notice anyone in particular, but it was evident by Simon’s urgency that he didn’t want to be seen talking with him any longer. 

“I hope you find something beautiful to take home with you,” Simon said, smiling as he backed away. 

Coen nodded. He already had. Unfortunately, it was only an alluring conversation and nothing more. 

/ / / / /

Simon ducked through the door of the club and shook the rain off his umbrella before folding it up and placing it in the stand by the door. He’d never been there during the day but he found that once he was inside there was really no way to know whether it was day or night. He checked at the desk and discovered that as he’d hoped, his friend was working. 

Taking a seat at the bar he waved as Matt made his way over. “I thought I might find you here.” 

“Usually a pretty safe bet. But I can’t say the same for you. In fact I don’t ever think I’ve seen you here without Samuel.” Matt grabbed a glass and made Simon’s drink without even being asked. 

Simon’s face fell at the mention of Samuel but he brushed it off. “I’m actually on a bit of a mission and I hoped you could help.”

Matt pushed the drink across the polished wood and leaned against the bar. “I’d love to try. What’s up?”

“There was a man at the party last weekend that I’m trying to track down. I assume he’s a member, but I guess it’s possible he’s not,” Simon said, just coming to the realization that he might have just been a guest of Reid’s. 

Matt frowned. “You know I can’t give out personal information like that.”

“Oh, no no,” Simon said holding his hands up. “It’s nothing like that, I promise. He actually owned the space where the party was held. I don’t know if he meant the building or just the gallery, but I was hoping you knew who he was.” 

Thinking for a moment, Matt shook his head. “I actually don’t know. Reid had to move the party there last minute when our other venue backed out, but I never actually saw who he dealt with. Do you want me to ask him? Are you planning some sort of event?”

Simon made a split second decision to lie even though he hated to do that to his friend. He just couldn’t risk anything getting back to Samuel. “Yes actually. I’m planning a surprise party for Samuel and I thought it was the perfect space. The owner’s name was Coen, does that ring a bell?”

“No,” Matt said, grabbing a napkin and jotting the name down. “But I can ask Reid. What does he look like?”

Simon flashed back to the night of the party. “My height, dark brown hair, just a little long,” he said, gesturing to his neck. Neatly trimmed beard, grey eyes,” he hoped that his description sounded clinical, not like he was intimately recalling the details. 

Matt shook his head again. “Definitely not one of our regulars. I’ll let you know what Reid says.” 

Simon nodded and took a sip of his drink. With that covered he steered the conversation on to safer topics, hoping Matt wouldn’t guess that Coen was the entire purpose of his trip. 

/ / / / /

Coen reached for the phone as it rang, his attention still focused on the property contract laid out on his desk. 

“Maarten Properties,” he answered as he continued to read.

“Um, hello,” Simon said, stuttering slightly. “Is this Coen?”

Coen stopped reading as he replied. “Yes, this is Coen. Can I help you?”

“This is Simon. We met a few weeks ago at the gallery? I’m not sure if you remember me…” 

“Simon,” Coen said softly. “Of course I remember you. We both fancy shapes if I recall.”

“We do,” Simon said, his voice stronger now that Coen sounded less brusk. “I was calling to ask a favor.” 

Coen leaned back in his chair, his mind conjuring the mental image of Simon when he had blushed. “Certainly. How can I help you?” 

“I was wondering if you’d be willing to spend some time teaching me the basics of real estate investing.” 

He wasn’t sure what he had expected Simon’s favour to be, but Coen was still surprised when he heard it. “Teaching you the basics,” he repeated. “So you want to invest in real estate?”

“Maybe?” Simon said hesitantly. “It’s kind of a long story, but I was hoping just to get more information on the whole process. And I didn’t know who else to call.” 

Coen had to admit that he was a bit let down to know that Simon’s call was all about business, but if it gave him the opportunity to spend some time with the attractive young man, it wasn’t all bad. 

“I’m glad you called me. I’d be happy to help you in any way I can,” Coen said sincerely. 

“I’m sure you are busy, I promise not to take up too much of your time. I can come to your office if that is easiest for you?” Simon’s words came out in a rush of relief. 

“I do have an appointment this afternoon…” Coen glanced at his schedule. “Are you free this evening? We could talk over dinner.”

Simon paused. “I… I think I can make that work. What time?”

“Eight?” Coen replied. He had not forgotten the silver chain Simon wore around his neck. 

“Eight is fine. Do you have a place in mind? And is there some way I can reach you if something comes up?”

Coen gave Simon the number for his mobile and suggested a popular restaurant with which he was familiar. “Will it be just the two of us?” 

“Yes,” Simon said. “Just us.” 

_Curiouser and curiouser._ Coen could not help to wonder what kind of dominant wouldn’t keep someone like Simon closer. 

“I look forward to seeing you again,” he said truthfully.

“Likewise,” Simon said softly. 

Coen smiled as he hung up the phone. Before his call, he’d believed that he would never see Simon again, unless it was somewhere like the club. Now Coen was looking forward to tonight and dinner with Simon.


	2. Chapter 2

Simon leaned forward to check the name on the building before he exited the taxi. Satisfied he was in the right place he paid the fair and pulled his jacket tighter around his waist before going inside. There was quite a line, the restaurant was obviously a new hot spot, and he wondered how he’d find Coen in the crowd. 

Coen was standing just inside the restaurant and waved Simon over when he walked through the door. When Simon joined him, he leaned in so that he could be heard over the din of conversations in the restaurant. 

“We have a table in the back. A bit quieter. So we can talk.”

Simon nodded and followed Coen through the crowd. “I’m sorry I’m a little late. I got held up.” 

“You’re fine,” Coen assured him as he paused, allowing Simon to pass and walk ahead of him. He placed his hand gently on Simon’s back, shielding him from flurry of action around them.

Simon tried not to react, recognizing that the gesture was just casual and meant to keep them from getting separated. “You must be important to get a private table somewhere like this.” 

“The owner is a friend. I helped him find this location,” Coen explained. “The restaurant has been very successful. There’s a two month wait for reservations, but I called in a favor.” 

Simon was impressed at the dramatic drop in the noise level as they rounded a small partition camouflaged with plants to find their table. “I’m beginning to think maybe I’m in over my head here.” 

Coen waited until they were seated, Simon first and then him, before he asked. “In over your head?”

Simon smiled. “I’m here looking for beginner tips, and I’m realizing you’re operating on expert mode.” 

“It’s only dinner at a nice restaurant,” Coen smiled. “I hope that is something to which you are accustomed?”

“No,” Simon said, shaking his head. “I don’t go out much. I had to google this place just to find it.” 

“That’s a pity. You are far too attractive to be a homebody,” Coen told him. 

Simon shifted uncomfortably at the compliment. “Did you end up taking that painting home?” he asked in an effort to change the subject. 

“No.” Coen shook his head and smiled. “It wasn’t exactly what I wanted.” 

Simon nodded. “Understandable.” The waiter appeared with water goblets and they both placed their drink order after listening to the specials. “Any recommendations?” he asked once the waiter had left. 

“Yes. I can order for us. If that is something you would like,” Coen offered.

“Yes, please,” Simon said, happy to give that responsibility over to someone else. He closed his menu and sat back in his chair. “I’m sure you know what is good here.” 

“I know what I like. Hopefully, you will like it, too,” he replied. “Any hard limits that I should know about?” Coen smiled. “Duck, for instance. Never had a taste for it.”

“Too oily,” Simon agreed. “I don’t care for capers, but other than that I’m pretty adventurous.” The use of “hard limits” helped answer one of the burning questions he’d had since the night of the party. 

Coen looked over the menu again then set it aside, turning his full attention toward Simon. “So I have to ask the burning question…” 

The intensity of Coen’s look caught Simon by surprise and heat rose in his face at the scrutiny. “Okay, he said slowly. 

“Why real estate?” 

Simon wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting but that wasn’t exactly it. “Um…” he stalled for a moment, trying to figure out where to begin. “It’s kind of a long story, is that okay?”

Coen relaxed in his chair and gave Simon an encouraging smile. “You have my full attention for as long as you want it.”

“Before I start, I have to ask you one question as well,” Simon said, taking a moment to sip his water as he suddenly found his mouth quite dry. 

“That’s only fair,” Coen replied.

“The party where we met. Were you attending just because you owned the space, or are you a member?” Simon kept his words as neutral as possible, he needed to know exactly where Coen stood. 

Coen smiled, pausing before he answered. “The owner of the club is a friend. His plans for another venue fell through at the last minute so he called me for help. I own the building where the art gallery is located. They rent that space from me and I, in turn, asked them if they would make their gallery available for the party.” Coen smoothed out a wrinkle on the arm of his suit coat. “And I am a member of the club. Although I do not frequent it.”

Simon visibly relaxed. “I thought you might be, you seemed to understand what my collar meant.” He spoke quietly conscious that while they had some privacy they were still in a public restaurant. 

Coen’s gaze dropped to the chain around Simon’s neck. “I do understand,” he said quietly. “Since we are sharing, may I ask another question?” 

“Of course. That’s only fair.” 

“Your dominant. A man?” asked Coen.

Simon nodded. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all. And that wasn’t my question.” Coen smiled. “He doesn’t mind if you have dinner with other men?” 

“You make it sound salacious,” Simon said. “I’m having a business meeting on a topic he encouraged me to pursue.” He didn’t mention his difficulty in conveying that point was what had led to his delay. 

“I apologize,” Coen said quietly. “It’s unfair of me to hold you to my own standard.”

“Your own standard?” Simon’s question was innocent but both men knew what he was really asking. 

“Not that having dinner with another man can’t be completely innocent…” Coen’s stare was intense as he continued. “But a boy of mine wouldn’t do it unless I knew the other party.”

“You wouldn’t trust your boy?” Simon had completely forgotten he was supposed to be telling his story, finding Coen much more interesting. 

“I would. But I don’t know if I would trust someone else with my boy, not having met him.” 

“I can defend myself,” Simon said sharply, adding “if needed,” when he realized how it might sound. 

“Not all assaults are physical,” Coen murmured. “So your dom is the one who encouraged you to consider investing in real estate?” he asked, clearly moving the discussion to safer ground. 

“Yes,” Simon nodded, resuming his earlier train of thought. “I just needed to know you understood my place before we moved forward. I do still work part time, but right now that money is just sitting in an account at the bank. Samuel suggested I do something productive with it.” 

“Good advice. You’re young and you have time to let your money work for you,” Coen commented. “Any particular reason you are considering real estate over other types of investments?”

“In the limited research I’ve done it seemed that the London market was hot. Being located here I felt like it was a good fit but I needed to learn more.” Their drinks arrived and Simon paused long enough for the waiter to clear the area. “I could also be completely off base. That’s why I’m here.” 

“You’re right, the London market is hot. Outrageously expensive and hot. People are always looking for investors for new projects.” Coen took a sip of his drink before he continued. “The good thing is that you don’t have to have an enormous amount of money to begin and there are opportunities to be had.” 

“But I need a mentor to keep me from screwing up,” Simon smiled. “I don’t want to find myself in a position where I’m left with nothing.” 

“There is always a certain amount of risk involved with investments. Any kind of investments. But I would be happy to help you find something,” Coen told him.

“Thank you. I know you must be a busy man so I appreciate you taking some time for me. Will you allow me to pay you for your time?” Simon didn’t want Coen thinking there would be any other types of compensation involved. 

“Let’s talk some more about the type of real estate you are interested in and how much you are wanting to invest before we talk about fees,” Coen replied. “But first, it’s time to order,” he said with a smile as the waiter approached.

Simon’s head swum with all the facts and figures Coen threw out over the course of the meal. He managed to keep up somewhat, and he finally broke down and started taking some notes on his phone of things to look up later. “You make it all sound so effortless,” he said as they finally started to wind things down over dessert. 

“I don’t mean to mislead you then. It can be detailed and time consuming, but the effort is usually worth the return in my opinion.” Coen reached for his drink. “Have I given you enough to think about until the next time?”

“Absolutely. And I’m sure I’ll have a million questions after I go back and try to think through this all again.” Simon realized it felt good to be stimulated like this again. It had been so long since he’d had something in his life to be excited about that he’d almost forgotten the thrill it brought. 

“You have my number. Call or text if you have a question. We can meet up again after you have done your homework,” he smiled. “You said you work part-time. May I ask what it is that you do?” 

Simon nodded. “I’m a book editor. Selective about the projects I take on because I need to keep my schedule flexible.” 

“Well read and an art lover. I approve,” Coen said. 

“So you’ll take me on as a protege,” Simon laughed. “My pedigree is up to snuff?”

“Good taste can be a valuable attribute in real estate. Understanding what people want so you can be the one to provide it for them,” explained Coen. 

“Wise advice. I’ll keep that in mind.” Simon checked his watch. “I shouldn’t keep you, you’ve been so generous with your time. I’m sure you have someone to get home to.” 

“No, but I take it you do,” Coen replied. “I hope I have been of some help and I look forward to hearing from you. When you’re ready.”

“He was more than generous to allow me to come here tonight,” Simon said softly. “I shouldn’t repay that by staying out late.” He didn’t want to share too much, but Coen deserved a bit of the truth. 

“I understand,” Coen replied simply. 

“I appreciate that.” The waiter appeared with their bill and Simon reached for it. “Let me take care of that. You’ve been generous enough this evening.” 

Coen was faster and took the bill from the waiter before Simon could get it. “I appreciate your offer, but please, allow me. It was my invitation.” He retrieved his wallet from his pocket and pulled out a credit card. 

Simon demurred with a frown. ‘You don’t need to do that.” 

“Oh, but I do. I can write it off as a business dinner with a potential client,” Coen grinned.

“If you insist,” Simon said, sitting back in his chair. He was still trying to get a good read on Coen, the man continued to surprise him. 

“Thank you for an enjoyable evening,” Coen said sincerely. “I am glad you called me.”

Simon smiled. “So am I.” 

/ / / / /

Coen moved the small stack of files on the corner of his desk and saw a brochure for the art gallery. It made him think of Simon and he realized that it had been over two weeks since they’d had dinner together. He hoped he hadn’t scared him away. 

He liked Simon. He was not only attractive, he was intelligent and he had a quiet thoughtfulness that Coen found intriguing. It was true that he was initially drawn to him for his looks, but after talking with him, Coen knew there was more to Simon that just a pretty face. 

Coen picked up his mobile and searched for Simon’s number with the intention of calling him. He hesitated before he pressed the button, instinctively realizing that he should wait for Simon to call him when he was ready. 

Coen searched for a different number and pressed that button instead. 

“Hello. I was just thinking about you and how long it’s been since we’ve had a chance to get together,” Coen said as he continued to sift through the stack of files. “No, tonight is not too soon. Let’s say eight. I’ll have the room ready for you.” 

/ / / / /

Coen was almost to his office when his mobile rang. He answered when he saw Simon’s name on the screen. “Good morning,” he said brightly. 

“Good morning,” Simon said. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“Not at all,” replied Coen. “What can I do for you?”

“‘I’ve been studying. Trying to work through everything you talked about.” 

“Good. I was hoping you would.” Coen had also hoped that Simon would call him.

“I think I’m ready for my next lesson. It’s good reading about all this but I feel like it would make more sense to actually go see some of these types of properties and neighborhoods. Does that make sense?”

“It does. Have you narrowed down the type of property that you are interested in? Residential, commercial? I’m only asking so we can narrow the search a bit,” Coen explained. 

Simon paused. “Commercial? You talked about that being more stable, particularly if you keep to the proper neighborhoods. Right?”

“Yes. So would you like to get together and go look at some of those neighborhoods?” Coen asked, hoping that he would be able to play tour guide for Simon and spend some more time with him. 

“I’d love that,” Simon said. “I have to admit I was hoping you’d offer.” 

Coen smiled with Simon’s response. “Perfect. When would you like to do it?”

“Thursday would be ideal, but I wasn’t sure how that would work with your schedule.” 

“What time on Thursday?” Coen asked, although he already knew that he was willing to rearrange his schedule if need be.

“Any time after one o’clock. I can come to you, but I don’t have a car. Do you have one we could use?”

“Yes. I will drive, don’t worry about that. Let’s plan on two. Where can I pick you up?” 

“I’ll come to your office,” Simon said quickly. “Two on Thursday,” he confirmed. 

“Are you sure? It’s no trouble for me to come to you,” Coen told him. 

“I’m sure. I have a notebook full of questions so be prepared,” Simon said. 

“I’m ready and looking forward to it. See you on Thursday.” Coen put his phone away, curious about the reluctance for him to go to Simon. It seemed that it would be easier since Simon admitted that he did not have a car. Coen hoped that he could satisfy his curiosity when he and Simon met again.

/ / / / /

Simon checked the time and then sent Coen a text. _I’m here, should I come up or wait outside?_

_I’ll come down. Be there in a tick._

Simon put his phone away and stepped back out of the middle of the sidewalk to wait. He’d been looking forward to this all week, even if he didn’t want to admit to himself exactly why. He smiled with Coen appeared. “Good to see you again.” 

“And you as well,” Coen replied with a warm smile. He placed his hand on Simon’s upper arm as he gestured toward the shiny, black Jaguar parked at the kerb. “This is me.”

“Wow,” Simon said, glancing over at Coen. “You travel in style.” 

“Only the best for my clients.” Coen grinned as he unlocked and opened the door for Simon.

Simon slid into the car, positioning his bag between his feet where he could reach his notebook. The car smelled new and it was devoid of any type of personal touches. It clearly seemed to be a car used for business. 

Coen took his seat behind the wheel and fastened his seatbelt. “Let me help you with that,” he offered as he took hold of Simon’s seat belt and clicked it into buckle. 

Simon sat back in the seat and let Coen fasten the restraint. “Thanks,” he said quietly. The little gestures hadn’t gone unnoticed, but Simon didn’t want to call attention to them either. “How have you been?”

“Never better. And yourself?” he responded cheerfully as he started the car.

“Good,” Simon said, leaving it at that. “Again I appreciate you taking time from your day for me.” 

“I’m glad you called. I was hoping you would,” Coen told him as he eased into the traffic on the busy London street. 

“I wouldn’t run out on you after you spent all that time with me at dinner. I plan to follow through.” Simon watched out the window, paying attention to where they were headed. 

“So where should we start? Which areas interested you most?” asked Coen.

Simon pulled out his notebook and started listed off areas. He scribbled notes furiously as Coen ticked off information about each of them. He was amazed at what the other man could rattled off just off the top of his head. “How long did it take you to learn all this?” he asked when he could finally get a word in edgewise. 

“Is that a polite way of asking how old I am?” Coen said with a smile.

“Actually no,” Simon said, looking over at Coen. “That hadn’t even crossed my mind.” 

“I was teasing you,” Coen said softly. “But in reply to your question, I grew up surrounded by my father’s business so I suppose my answer would be all my life.”

“So you didn’t choose this so much as it chose you,” Simon said, forgetting his notes for a moment in favor of leaning more about the other man. 

“Yes. It chose me. I like that,” Coen said in agreement.

“Is your father still involved in the business?” Simon knew the company shared Coen’s last name but he wasn’t sure if that was singular or the two of them. 

“Yes. He’s semi-retired though. My mother keeps him busy with travel cruises. They are in the South Pacific right now.” 

“It sounds like he was successful like you.” Simon liked listening to Coen talk, whether it was about business or personal things. 

“The real estate business has been good to our family,” Coen said with a smile. “What about your family? Are you from London?”

Simon shook his head. “Near Kent originally. I came here for school and then just never left. I can’t imagine not living in the city though.” 

“And your family still lives in Kent?” Coen asked.

“Yes. Last I checked at least.” Simon turned his gaze out the window. 

“Lovely area, Kent. I take it you don’t visit often?” Coen persisted.

“Not in the last several years,” Simon said. He pulled his notebook back up on his lap. “I’ve lost track, where are we now?” he said, trying to shift the conversation away from his family. 

“We’re almost there. I think you’ll like this first property. Perfect for retail rental space,” Coen answered, apparently willing to drop the subject of Simon’s family.

Simon visibly relaxed as the conversation shifted back to business. They fell back into an easy banter, Coen patiently answer all of Simon’s questions. 

Coen pulled into an empty space in a car park and killed the engine. “Now, I need your feedback so don’t hold back about what you’re thinking,” he advised before they got out of the car and walked toward the street where several business buildings were located.

Simon followed Coen down the street, taking in everything around them. He tried to keep all of Coen’s advice in mind as he evaluated the neighborhood. He translated his thoughts into words, keeping up a running commentary and watching for Coen’s approval. 

“This is a smaller space, just the lower floor of this building, but it is in your price range. It’s perfect for a retail space and although it doesn’t have a tenant at the moment, it will soon. This is an up and coming area.” Coen unlocked the door to the space then stepped aside to allow Simon to enter first.

“What kind of rental history does it have?” Simon asked as he wandered through the space. 

“Good. The last tenant was here for almost ten years,” Coen replied. 

Simon checked all the things Coen had told him about, the unsexy parts that were important if you were going to own a building. “And what’s upstairs?”

“Business offices. Barristers and an accounting firm. Quiet neighbors. Always a good thing,” Coen smiled.  
Simon finished his inspection and turned to Coen. “If you were in the market for this type of property would you buy it?”

“Yes. I don’t show clients property that I wouldn’t buy myself.” 

Simon nodded. “Ok so how did I do? What did I miss?” He’d rambled on so he wasn’t sure if he’d managed to hit on all the things Coen had told him to look for. 

“You did great. You asked a lot of the right questions. Some that I might not even have thought to ask,” Coen praised.

His cheeks warming from the praise, Simon took one last look around. “I’d guess knowing you the little I do, that you have other places to look at as well.” 

“I have,” Coen replied as they walked toward the door. “The next one is much larger and not something that’s in your budget alone so it would involve pooling your investment with others and I can give you some more information about that as we drive.” 

Simon wasn’t sure how he felt about that type of risk but he was willing to hear Coen out. As soon as they were back in the car he made sure to jot down a few things about the place they’d just seen before he flipped over to scrawl notes frantically as Simon talked about shared risk and reward. 

The afternoon passed in a flurry of properties and a crash course in the London real estate market. When they finally pulled back up in front of Coen’s office Simon was exhausted. “I think you’ve given me far too many decisions to make.” 

Coen laughed softly. “It’s a lot of information to take in, but you’re doing great.” 

“I hope you aren’t just saying that to make me feel better,” Simon said, shoving his notebook down into his bag. “You are going way above and beyond for me.” 

“It’s not all selfless. And it’s been a pleasure spending time with you,” Coen added.

“Spending time answering my eight bajillion questions? I find that hard to believe,” Simon said, shaking his head. 

“Then you underestimate yourself,” Coen said softly.

Simon looked over and found Coen looking at him intently. He lowered his eyes and looked away. “Doubtful,” he said before busying himself by gathering up his bag. “So what is my next step?”

Coen was silent for a moment before he responded. “Making the decision,” he said quietly as he continued to look at Simon.

“And then I just call and let you know? Or do I need to involve the bank first?” Simon could feel Coen’s eyes on him but he didn’t look over. 

“Call me when you’re ready,” Coen replied.

“Timeframe?” Simon asked, finding he could no longer avoid Coen’s eyes. “How fast will everything we saw today get snapped up?”

“I wouldn’t wait too long,” Coen advised. “And if none of those are the one for you, we will keep looking.”

Simon nodded. “You’ll hear from me soon,” he promised. 

“I look forward to it,” Coen told him.

Simon thanked him again and then exited the car. He couldn’t help but look back over his shoulder as he walked to the tube and he found Coen still looking at him. He turned back and kept going, trying not to think about what it all meant.


	3. Chapter 3

“So have you talked about the move with Matt?” Coen asked Reid as the bartender brought over their drinks, two Sazeracs. 

“Yes. And he’s excited about it. He’s ready to try having a private life away from the club.” Reid took a sip of his drink. “Not bad. But Matty makes it better,” he said quietly so the bartender wouldn’t hear. 

Coen smiled, enjoying the fact that his friend was content and happy with his partner. He took a drink of the cocktail and agreed with Reid’s assessment. 

“He doesn’t want to live too far away though. He likes this area,” Reid told him. 

“That’s no problem. This area has come along way since you opened R.A.C.K. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised at the residential options,” Coen replied. He lifted his glass to take another drink and froze when he saw a familiar form standing at the front desk. It was Simon. He would recognize that back anywhere. 

He set his glass down and started to ask Reid to excuse him when Simon was joined by another man. Someone with whom he was apparently familiar since he stood so close to him. 

The sound of Reid’s mobile broke Coen’s momentary trance. He slid his chair to the side, making sure he was out of view but still able to watch the front as Reid took his call. 

Simon stood just a half step behind the other man while he made the arrangements for their room. He stiffened slightly when another man approached, unconsciously moving even further back as the older man leaned in to greet him with a kiss. 

Coen frowned. He’d thought the other man with Simon must be his dom, but then who was this other young man? If Simon’s body language was any indication at all, he wasn’t as pleased to see him as the older man was. 

The older man put an arm around each of the boys, smiling as he looked back and forth between them. Simon had schooled his features into a bland pleasantness now that he was face to face with the other two men. 

A threesome? Coen guessed as he continued to watch the interaction between Simon and the other two men. If the older man was Simon’s dom, couldn’t he see by his boy’s body language that he was not happy? Who would want a second boy when they had Simon anyway? That last thought gave Coen pause because he knew he wouldn’t want someone else with Simon. He also knew that he wanted Simon. 

The dom’s arm dropped from around Simon’s waist as he guided the other boy around the desk toward the play rooms. Simon trailed along after them, disappearing from Coen’s sight as they rounded the corner. 

Coen exhaled, he was irritated by what he’d just witnessed. Was that brief glimpse of Simon the insight to what Coen had been wondering about him? He knew there was so much more to Simon than the small tidbits that Coen had been given. He needed to know more. 

Reid returned to the table, apologizing for his need to take the call. Coen graciously waved it off as he took another sip of his drink. His mind was still on Simon anyway. 

/ / / / /

Coen closed the door to his office and sat in the chair behind his desk. He reached for the phone and tapped out the numbers to make his call. He was tense. Unsettled. And in an effort to rid himself of those feelings, he was calling Simon. 

Simon was just leaving work when Coen’s number popped up on his phone. “Hello?”

“Hello,” Coen responded. “I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time?” 

“Actually no, I was just leaving work. Is everything okay? I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.” Simon stepped into the closest doorway just to be out of the flow of the foot traffic while he talked. 

“Everything is great. I was wondering, that is, I was hoping that I might be able to entice you to meet me this evening. There’s a great pub I know and it’s about halfway between your work and mine.” Coen tensed some more when there was a long silence on the other end of the line. 

“You know where I work?” Simon asked, some hesitancy in his voice. 

“You did give me your NI. For the forms. I just did a bit of research and filled in the rest,” Coen replied, sincerely hoping that he wasn’t coming across like a stalker. 

“Checking up to see that I was who I said I was?” Simon said, the tension gone from his voice. “I suppose that makes sense.” 

“Good business practice,” Coen said, encouraged when Simon didn’t hang up on him. 

Simon agreed. “Well you are in luck. I can actually meet you tonight, which is unusual for me. Typically I need more notice but today must be your lucky day.” 

“Wonderful! Let me give you the address of the pub.” Coen rattled off the information, smiling with the thought of seeing Simon. 

Simon repeated the address back. “Should I head there now?”

“Yes. I’m leaving now as well,” Coen replied. “See you soon.” 

Simon said goodbye and ended the call before pulling up the map to be sure he was headed in the right direction. 

Coen arrived at the pub first. He waited at the bar near the front so he could keep an eye on the front door. He had been surprised when Simon accepted his invitation. He also felt as if he was doing something that wasn’t quite proper. Coen knew that if he had a boy like Simon, he wouldn’t want him meeting another man, and definitely not another dom. 

Simon paused in the doorway to let his eyes adjust to the dim light. He glanced around and found Coen immediately, waving as he made his way over. “I found it,” he said by way of greeting. 

“Any problems?” Coen asked, smiling as he stood from where he was sitting at the bar. Instinctively, he reached for Simon, but let his arm fall before he touched him. 

“No, I’m just not used to navigating around the city. If it weren’t for my phone I’d be helpless. You’d think I’d be better by now but I’m not.” Simon gestured to the empty barstools. “Did you want to sit at the bar or grab a table?”

“Let’s get a table. It can get a bit loud at the bar when more people start coming in.” Coen got the attention of the hostess and she led them toward a booth in the back, leaving them with menus. “Thank you for meeting me,” Coen said when they were settled. 

“You’re welcome. Was I taking too long to get back to you with a decision? I’m still feeling overwhelmed with the choices,” Simon said as he glanced through the menu. 

“Not at all,” Coen said quickly. “Actually, I didn’t invite you for business,” he confessed, watching Simon’s face closely for his reaction.

Simon’s hands went still. “Oh,” he said, looking over the top of the menu at Coen. 

“I wanted to see you again,” Coen added quietly. 

“Coen,” Simon said slowly shaking his head. “You know my situation.” 

“I do. And I have to respect that,” he said slowly. “But it doesn’t change the fact that I enjoy spending time with you.”

“And I as well. As long as you understand where the boundaries are.” Simon gave his drink order to the waiter.

Coen gave his drink order as well, somewhat surprised with Simon’s order. He wondered if their conversation had anything to do with Simon choosing something so strong. 

“How has work been?” Simon asked, steering the conversation to more neutral territory. 

“Good. Busy. What about your work? Are there busier times than others for you?” Coen asked.

“It just depends on what projects I’ve picked up. Right now things are pretty quiet but I’ve got a few contracts in the works. If they all come through at once I’ll be rather swamped.” Simon smiled, “so I need to make up my mind about those properties before then.” 

“The amount of time you have to spend making decisions about your property investment is definitely something you need to factor into your choice,” Coen advised.

“If I do it right I can take on fewer contracts at work because I’ll have another source of income. That’s appealing,” Simon said. 

“It is good to have those kind of options.” Coen leaned back when the waiter returned with their drinks. 

Simon held up his glass in a toast. “To successful opportunities.” 

“And new friendships,” Coen added as he lifted his glass. 

After touching Coen’s glass with his own, Simon took a sip. “Good,” he proclaimed. 

Coen nodded his head in agreement after taking a sip of his own drink. “I like this place. It’s homey. I get so tired of those places that call themselves pubs when they are most certainly not.”

“Do you go out often? I can’t say I’m in enough pubs to really know the difference.” 

“I do go out a lot. Mostly for business reasons. And also for the simple fact that I don’t cook,” he grinned and took another sip of his drink. 

“I can manage in a kitchen but I’d prefer not to,” Simon laughed. “So maybe I should start frequenting more pubs.” 

Coen liked the sound of Simon’s laugh. He guessed that Simon didn’t have occasion to laugh as much as he should. 

“So no one at home to cook for you then.” Simon was fairly certain Coen was single but he was still feeling out the details. 

“No. No one,” Coen replied. “Living alone is another good reason to eat out a lot.”

“I’m sure wining and dining clients keeps you occupied in the evenings,” Simon pointed out. 

“Some evenings. Even I need some down time away from business,” Coen replied. “An evening spent with pleasant company.” He tilted his glass toward Simon before taking another drink.

“What do you like to do in your spare time?” Simon asked. “In all the time I’ve spent with you I’ve never heard you mention any hobbies.” 

“I am a man without hobbies,” Coen confessed with a shrug. “Should I take up something, do you think?” 

“A man without hobbies?” Simon said incredulously. “I find that hard to believe. All work and no play?”

“I wouldn’t say _that_...” Coen smiled. “Does play count as a hobby? Perhaps I’m underselling myself.”

Simon thought about that. “Anything that isn’t work is a hobby I suppose.” 

“Then I do have a hobby. Because I do make time for play,” Coen corrected his answer. “What are your hobbies?”

“Learning about real estate investing?” Simon said. “Or does that not count.” 

“That counts. Anything else?” Coen smiled. 

Simon shook his head. “I don’t have a lot of free time.” 

“Is that by choice?” Coen asked before he could stop himself. 

Simon took a drink. “In a way.” 

“It’s part of your arrangement.” It wasn’t a question, simply Coen making an observation. “You’ve agreed to the terms so you made the choice. In a way.”

“Astute observation,” Simon said softly. 

“I am not unfamiliar. As you know,” Coen said quietly. “Am I allowed to ask how long you have been in your current arrangement?” 

“Almost four years,” Simon said after a moment of thought. “Some days it seems longer,” he said ruefully. 

“Simon,” Coen spoke softly as he leaned forward. “Are you unhappy?” 

Simon sat back and cradled his drink in his hands. “I don’t think we know each other well enough for you to be asking me that question.” 

Coen leaned back, sighing softly. Just when he thought he might be breaking through, Simon put up his walls again. “I apologize,” he said sincerely.

“Apology accepted.” Simon finished off the last of his drink and signaled to the waiter for another. 

Coen still had half his drink and declined when the waiter asked him if he needed another. “Do you think it is wrong of me to want to get to know you better?” he asked when they were alone again.

Simon shook his head. “Not at all. If we are going to have a business relationship we need to know enough to trust one another.” 

“Then I hope you will come to trust me,” Coen said softly. 

“I hope so as well. And you likewise.” Without a drink to hold Simon’s hands fidgeted with the edge of the tablecloth. 

Coen wondered if he was making Simon nervous or if something else was putting the other man on edge. “And I’m glad that you were free tonight. You mentioned that usually isn’t the case so I feel fortunate.” 

“Samuel is out of town on a business trip. Fortunate timing. He encouraged me on this real estate venture but that doesn’t change the importance of my availability for him,” Simon said, gladly accepting his new drink when the waiter reappeared. 

“I see,” Coen murmured before sipping on his drink again. He watched as Simon drank a third of his in one go. “Would you like something to eat?” he offered, concerned that Simon may be drinking on an empty stomach.

“Only if you plan to eat,” Simon said, pushing the menu across to Coen. “I can tell you are worried I’m overindulging.” 

“Are you overindulging?” asked Coen as he placed his hand on the menu.

“Not yet,” Simon said, a slight tease in his voice. “But it’s sweet that you are concerned.” 

“Sweet?” Coen couldn’t help but smile at the adjective. 

Simon smiled. “Do you have a different word you prefer?”

“Oh no,” Coen shook his head, still smiling. “Sweet is fine.” He took another sip of his drink, his gaze drawn to the curve of Simon’s mouth. The young man’s face was transformed when he smiled. With the risk of making Simon’s smile disappear again, he asked another question. “Have you talked with Samuel about your prospects for investing?”

“No,” Simon said, shaking his head. “He said things like that don’t interest him. He’s satisfied that I have someone knowledgeable advising me which is good enough.” 

Not exactly the encouragement one would expect from the person who advised him. “I suppose it’s not for everyone, but you’ve taken quite well to it,” Coen complimented. 

Simon shrugged. “I like to read and learn, this is just a new topic for me to explore. And then the universe brought us together so it was meant for me to do this.” 

“Did the universe bring you and Samuel together?” Coen asked, tempting his fate again in an effort to learn more about the man who was controlling Simon. 

“I suppose it did. The universe is funny that way,” Simon said, taking another pull on his drink.

“Funny? Funny how?” Coen nudged. He felt a pang of guilt at questioning Simon while he was under the influence, but this was the closest he’d come to learning anything about Simon’s current situation.

“Needs change. People change. Situations change. So how can we ever know what’s right?” Simon waved his hand. “It’s just easier to chalk things up to fate sometimes.” 

“I suppose it seems that way, but if you leave your fate to something else, you may not be satisfied with the outcome,” Coen said.

“Satisfied,” Simon repeated softly. “What does it really mean to be satisfied?”

“I think it means feeling content,” Coen replied. 

Simon thought about that. “Is content enough or does satisfaction demand more?”

“More than what?” Coen knew Simon was referring to his own situation with Samuel.

“I’m just rambling,” Simon said, shaking his head. “This is so not what you bargained for when you asked me here.” 

“I want to get to know you better. That’s why I asked you here,” Coen told him. “I’d like us to be friends.”

“And instead I’ve gotten all melancholy and philosophical on you. Next time don’t let me drink,” Simon said pointing a finger at Coen.

Coen smiled and shook his head. “Duly noted.”

“I should turn the tables on you,” Simon said, finishing the last of his drink. “Are you content?”

“I think I am more content than you are,” Coen answered.

“But are you satisfied,” Simon asked with a smile. 

“For the most part. I don’t think it’s wise to be completely satisfied. You might be tempted to stop trying for something that you really want.” 

Simon nodded. “And what is it that you want?”

“I have my eye on something,” Coen replied as he looked at Simon. He wanted Simon. But would he be satisfied if Simon didn’t want him?

“Then I hope the universe brings it to you,” Simon said, returning the look. 

Coen stared at Simon until the other man looked away. “I hope so, too,” he said quietly.

/ / / / /

Simon waved at Matt and took a spot at the far end of the bar. It was a sparse crowd, still too early for the evening crowd so it wasn’t long before Matt made his way over.

“What can I get you?” Matt asked. 

“Just water today,” Simon said, the memory of how he felt this morning still fresh in his brain. “I overindulged at dinner last night.” 

“Samuel take you out somewhere nice?” Matt asked as he drew up some ice water.

Simon winced. “No. Actually he’s out of town on business.” 

Matt made a face back. “And you’re here to talk. This isn’t good.” 

“Is it that apparent?” Simon sighed. While he’d come specifically to talk to Matt about what was going on, he hated that it was written so plainly on his face.

“This is my job,” Matt teased. “I like to think I’m more perceptive than most.” 

Simon made a face. “That only makes me feel slightly better.” 

“Seriously though, I’m here to listen if you just need a sounding board. And if you just want to sit and visit and just not think about things for awhile that’s fine too,” Matt said.

“A sounding board is what I need,” Simon admitted. He toyed with the rim of his glass for a moment before he continued. “I think I’m just trying to decide what it means when two people who’ve been together for a long time start to have divergent interests.” 

Matt stared him down for a long moment. “That’s a big one,” he said finally. “I take it those interests aren’t compatible?”

Simon propped his elbow up on the bar and sat with his chin in hand. “God I sound so ungrateful. Samuel has done so much for me. And I really do care for him.” He lost himself in thought for a few moments, flashing back to when they first met. “But yeah,” he said finally, admitting it to both to himself and to Matt. 

“You care for him,” Matt said delicately, “but do you love him?”

Simon bristled at the question, but he realized it needed to be asked. “I do,” he said after a long silence. “But I’m not sure I’m in love with him right now.” He trusted Matt to know what he meant, even if he wasn’t exactly sure the words completely conveyed his feelings. 

Matt glanced down the bar to be sure everyone else was still doing fine and then turned his attention back to Simon. “Have you talked to him about this?”

“No,” Simon said miserably. “I kept hoping it was just a one time thing. Then a two time thing. Then a phase.” 

“I don’t want to overstep my bounds here,” Matt said softly. “But I’m just your friend and I can see how unhappy you are. If he can’t see that…” Matt shook his head. “You need to talk to him.”

Simon straightened up. “No, what I need is to get my act together. Quit wallowing.” He finished drinking his water and pushed the glass across the bar. “Thanks for letting me talk things out.” 

Matt frowned but didn’t say what he was obviously thinking. “Just talk to him,” he urged.

“See you soon,” Simon promised, sliding off his stool and squaring his shoulders before he left the bar.


	4. Chapter 4

Simon pulled up Coen in his phone and hesitated only for a moment before placing the call. He was a little worried about giving Coen the wrong idea by calling again, but he rationalized it because of their business relationship.

“Hello,” Coen replied, his tone familiar and friendly. “You’ve called to tell me that you’ve made a decision.”

“Close,” Simon said, smiling at the sound of Coen’s voice. “I’ve narrowed it down to two. I was hoping I could arrange a second visit before I pulled the trigger.” 

“Absolutely. Just tell me when and I can arrange it.” 

“My schedule is probably more flexible,” Simon said, pulling out his calendar. “I know yours has to be packed.” 

“I can make time for one of my favorite investors,” Coen countered. “And I realize that it’s not always easy for you to get away,” he added quietly.

Simon paused. “I appreciate that,” he replied softly. “Any afternoon this week should work. Or even today if you have a last minute opening.” 

“You know . . . today might work for me. What time?” asked Coen.

Simon partially hoped that the anticipation he could hear in Coen’s voice was just due to the impending real estate deal, but he couldn’t help but feel flattered as he knew it wasn’t. “I could be there by two,” Simon said, after a quick check of the time. 

“Two is great. See you soon,” Coen confirmed.

“Soon,” Simon agreed. By the time he made arrangements at home it was time to leave and he managed to arrive at Coen’s office right on time. He gave his name to the receptionist and then sat down to review his notes while he waited. 

Coen walked into the reception area, a welcoming smile on his face. “Ready to take a look again?” he asked as he approached Simon.

Simon looked up from his notes. He was always taken a little aback by how handsome Coen was. “I am,” he nodded. “Thanks for being so patient with me during all this.” 

“You’re welcome, but there’s no need to thank me,” Coen said as he took a step closer. “I thought I made it clear that I enjoy spending time with you.” 

“You did,” Simon said softly. “But I still want to thank you.” He gathered up his things and hiked his bag up on his shoulder. “Shall we?”

Coen pulled up to the kerb in front of the next building they were visiting. “The other space has a good price. More property for your money. But this place has the location,” he said as he gestured toward building.

“Someday I’ll have enough to just buy both,” Simon said, taking the time to look around, knowing that the surrounding properties were sometimes just as important as the one you actually owned. “Then I won’t have to decide.” 

“I like your attitude,” Coen said as he followed Simon toward the door. “I’m very impressed with the homework you’ve done. You’ve narrowed it down to the two best choices.”

“I just needed to see them again. Be sure my notes and memory weren’t missing anything.” Simon made his final rounds, checking and rechecking. “This one,” he said finally, hoping he sounded resolute even though he was fishing for Coen’s approval.

Coen smiled proudly. “You’re a natural,” he praised. “You’ve made an excellent choice.”

“Now for the hard part, actually putting the money up,” Simon smiled. “Luckily I can trust my partner in this deal.” 

“I love this part! Bargaining for the best deal. Now is when it gets exciting,” Coen said with a grin. 

“Really?” Simon asked, finding something new about Coen. “But it’s so unpredictable. Don’t you find that daunting?”

“I like a challenge. It’s more enjoyable when you have to work for it.” Coen stared at Simon as he spoke. 

Simon held his gaze for a moment and then looked away. He knew Coen was speaking of more than just real estate. “Are you allowed to negotiate on my behalf or is this something I’ll have to learn to do myself?”

“I can do it for you, if you want. We all have our strong suits. If this isn’t one of yours, at least you have someone with experience who can do it for you.” 

Simon considered the offer. “I’d like to be there, but if you were willing to handle things I’d love to just watch and learn the first time through.” 

“Let’s go back to my office and we will write up an offer and get it to them today,” Coen suggested. “We may not get our answer today though so do be prepared to wait should that be the case.”

Nodding, Simon took one last look around and then started toward the car. “Let’s go before I change my mind.” 

Coen placed his hand on Simon’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “It will be fine. No need to worry,” he assured.

“You don’t know me very well do you,” Simon said. “I can worry with the best of them.” 

“Then let me do the worrying for you on this one,” Coen said with soft smile.

“I will do my best.” Simon climbed into Coen’s car and settled back into the seat. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes. “Does it ever get easier?” he asked once Coen was next to him. 

“Does what ever get easier?” asked Coen.

“Making these giant decisions.” Simon cracked open his eyes and tilted his head so he could see Coen. “Or did it always just come naturally to you?”

“I suppose it did. Just tell yourself that it’s fine, whatever the outcome. Can you do that for me?” 

Simon looked at him for a long moment. “Only if you can tell me that it really will be fine, no matter the outcome.” 

“It will. Trust me,” Coen said softly as he continued to stare at Simon. 

Simon wanted to trust him. He wanted him to be right about not just real estate, but about life. “I’ll try,” he promised. 

“Good,” Coen smiled. “Now let’s go write that offer.”

“Let’s,” Simon said, forcing himself to break eye contact and turn back to the front. Each time he met with Coen he was left wanting more, but knowing he shouldn’t. 

/ / / /

Coen was smiling from ear to ear as he listened to the ringing of the phone. He was calling Simon with great news. He had managed to negotiate a fantastic price for the property that Simon had selected and he was anxious to tell him.

“Are you calling me with good news?” Simon said by way of greeting. “I could really use some today.” 

“I do have good news. You got the property,” Coen replied, pausing to get Simon’s reaction although he wanted to know about his day as well.

“I did?” Simon asked incredulously. “That fast? That easy?”

“I wouldn’t say it was easy,” Coen chuckled softly. “But I did get an excellent price for you so you should be very pleased.”

“That’s amazing. And I didn’t mean to imply it was easy, I just imagined there would be a much longer negotiation involved. I may have underestimated your skills,” Simon said.

“Everything went quite well. They were eager, so the negotiation went faster,” Coen explained. “And yes, you probably underestimated my skills,” he added teasingly. “You can make it up to me though.”

“How so?” Simon asked a little warily. 

“You can meet for a celebratory drink. I think we’ve earned it,” Coen replied. The truth was he wanted to see Simon again and he would use any excuse at his disposal. 

Simon hesitated for a long moment. “It’s really not a good time for me.” 

“It doesn’t have to be tonight . . .” Coen countered.

“Can I get a rain check? I’ll have to get back to you once I’ve had a chance to check my schedule.” 

“Of course. Another time then.” Coen was disappointed, but he didn’t want to pressure Simon into something he didn’t want. Simon had sounded pleased with the good news, but now he seemed almost distracted. 

“Are there papers or anything I need to sign that is time sensitive?” Simon asked. “I could see about getting them couriered over.” 

“Nothing urgent. Check your schedule and you can text me with a good time to meet and finalize the paperwork,” Coen told him. It was all business he realized, but what had he expected? Simon had been up front since the first time he met him at the gallery. He wasn’t free. He belonged to someone else. 

“Will do,” Simon promised. “Thank you again for all the hard work you’ve done for me. I couldn’t have done this without you.” 

“It’s what I do. And you’re welcome,” Coen said quietly. “Have a good evening.”

Simon started to say something but then cut himself off. “You too. Go have that drink, you deserve it.” 

Coen ended the call, his wide smile now completely gone. He had achieved his usual goal of getting what he wanted when he negotiated the deal for Simon, unfortunately for him though, he was now left with the feeling of _not_ getting what he wanted at all. 

/ / / / /

Simon walked away from Coen’s office lost in his own thoughts. The final signing had been awkward and stilted, nothing like their earlier encounters. He knew he was to blame for that, he’d let their relationship get far too personal and then pushed Coen away with no explanation. 

Ever since he’d talked to Matt he’d felt adrift. For the first time he’d realized that he might not be the source of the problem. That is wasn’t a matter of being better or trying harder. The revelation had hit him hard and left him lost as to how to proceed. 

The interest in real estate had given him a new challenge. And working with Coen had made him feel confident and competent, even when he was awash in new information. In a way the encounter with Coen at the gallery had been the wake-up call he needed. But that awakening had a down side, and he needed to find the strength to address it head on. 

Pulling his jacket tighter around himself like a shield, he set out for home. 

/ / / / /

Coen was distracted when the phone rang. He’d been expecting a call in response to a time-sensitive offer he’d made that morning so he responded in his professional tone. “Maarten here,” Coen said as he took a seat in the chair behind his desk.

“Uh,” Simon said, stuttering slightly in surprise. “It’s Simon. Is this a bad time?”

It took a brief moment for the familiar voice to register with Coen. He hadn’t seen or talked with Simon for over a month, not since the day he signed the papers on his new property. “No. No, it’s not a bad time,” Coen replied. He kept his business tone. “What can I do for you?”

“I have a rather odd question for you.” Simon cleared his throat. “Do you have any business interests in residential real estate or do you deal strictly in commercial?”

Coen hesitated, curious about the unexpected question. “I own some residential properties. Is that what you mean?”

Simon hesitated. “Not exactly. I’ve... found myself in the market for a new place and I was hoping you might help me look for something.” 

“Another investment property,” Coen said.

“Not exactly,” Simon said again. “I don’t suppose you’d have some time to meet? It’s probably easier to explain all this in person.” 

“I always have time for you, Simon. Would you like to check your schedule and get back with me?” Coen offered. He knew that Simon’s time was not always his own and he was trying to be considerate given his situation.

“No, anytime is fine. I can set my own hours at work so whatever is best for you,” Simon responded. 

Coen glanced at his calendar. “I’m free this evening,” he said slowly, as if already preparing himself for Simon’s refusal.

“That’s fine with me. Did you have somewhere in mind?” Simon said immediately. 

“Would you like to meet me at my office?” Coen offered. The neutral territory seemed a safer option than a restaurant or bar. 

“If that’s easiest for you, sure,” Simon said. “But I really don’t mind doing whatever is the simplest for you. After all I’m the one that always seems to be asking for favors.” 

_Favors._ Coen’s curiosity was piqued again despite the severe admonishment he’d given himself after his last encounter with Simon. “Is six a good time for you?”

“Six is fine. I appreciate you making time for me on short notice.” 

“It’s no problem at all. See you this evening,” Coen replied politely. 

“Looking forward to it,” Simon said and then disconnected. 

Coen gave his phone an odd look, as if it had anything to do with the unexpected call from Simon. The same man who he had tried specifically not to think about for the past weeks. Coen put the phone away and turned his attention back to what he was doing before it rang, and tried harder not to think about Simon.

/ / / / /

Simon frowned as he checked the time on his phone. He was a full fifteen minutes late to meet Coen and he hoped the other man hadn’t given up on him. The office was dim when he entered, everyone appeared to be gone for the night. “Coen?” he called out, unsure who might still be around. 

“Hello,” Coen said as he walked out of his office. He smiled at Simon as he greeted him. 

“I’m so sorry that I’m late. I was on a different line and didn’t realize how long it would take.” Simon shook his head. “But hello. It’s good to see you,” he said, forcing a smile. 

“It’s no problem. Really. I was just catching up on some paperwork. My least favorite thing to do,” Coen joked. “It’s good to see you, too,” he added.

Simon followed Coen back to his office and took a seat facing him. “How have you been?” he asked as he shrugged off his jacket. 

Coen took a seat in his chair. “Good,” he replied with a nod. “And you?”

Simon made a valiant attempt to look casual. “Good. Busy. Still learning all the investment ropes.” 

“Did you have some questions for me? Is that the favor you mentioned?” Coen asked as he relaxed in his chair. 

“You were so good to walk me through the basics of the commercial real estate market I was hoping you might have some suggestions on the residential side of things. Just places I might look, maybe somewhere I could get in the door at a relatively low price point.” He paused, wondering what Coen might be thinking. “A lot of liquidity is tied up in the other place so I’m not sure what my options might be at the moment.” 

Coen listened, his brow wrinkling in a frown. “I try to be straight with my customers and I hope you understand that anything I offer, or suggest, is with your interest in mind …”

Simon nodded, bracing himself for what Coen might say. 

“But I don’t think it is wise to invest in another property so quickly. It’s never a good thing to overextend yourself, especially when you’re new to this.”

Simon stared down at his hands where they were twisted together in his lap. “I understand it’s not ideal,” he said softly. “But is it possible?”

“Yes, of course. But I would be doing you a disservice if I didn’t give you my honest opinion,” Coen replied.

“And I appreciate that. That’s why I came to you, I knew I could trust you.” Simon left unsaid the added thought that Coen would be supportive of what he was going through. 

“You can trust me,” Coen repeated quietly. “Simon, I have to ask . . . why are you interested in doing this now?”

Simon looked over at the wall, unable to meet Coen’s eyes. “Because right now I’m staying at the Novotel Waterloo and that’s eating through my reserves at an alarming rate.” 

“Why are you staying at a hotel?” Coen asked, his expression changing from curiosity to concern. 

“Are you really going to make me say it?” Simon asked, the words coming out more clipped than he planned. 

“Simon…” Coen said his name softly as he leaned forward in his chair. “I told you that you can trust me and I meant it.” 

Simon turned his focus back to Coen. “I asked Samuel to renegotiate our contract and he declined. We mutually agreed to part ways.” The words were oddly clinical, staying disconnected was the only way he felt comfortable saying it. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sure that was difficult,” Coen replied. “I will help you any way I can,” he added sincerely.

“I need a place to live,” Simon said, trying to keep the conversation on business. “So that’s why I’m looking to take on a second property at exactly the wrong time.” 

“I understand,” Coen said with a nod. “So how much money do you have to spend for this new property?” His frown returned when Simon gave him the amount. “That’s not going to put you anywhere you want to be.”

“I was afraid of that,” Simon sighed. “Given my position in the market do you think it’s best to rent? Give my other investment time to bear fruit?”

“Renting in London is even more expensive. The monthly cost of a decent flat would consume your budget in no time,” Coen told him. 

Simon nodded, resigned to his fate. “How much of a hit would I take if I sold so soon? I know a chunk would be eaten up by transaction costs.” 

“You would definitely take a loss,” Coen murmured. “Is there someone you can stay with, a friend or family? Just until you can afford a better arrangement?” 

Rather than feel better as he’d hoped he might after talking to Coen, he was feeling worse by the moment. “I suppose I’d better start finding out. I just wanted to see about my options to stand on my own feet first.” 

“I can give you some money,” Coen offered.

“No,” Simon said strongly, backing off slightly when he realized how loud he’d spoken. “That’s not why I’m here. I’ll figure something out.” 

“I know we haven’t known one another very long, but I hope you consider me a friend. A friend who wants to help,” Coen cajoled.

“I do consider you a friend,” Simon said, hoping Coen would believe that after how he’d so abruptly cut off contact. “That’s why I reached out to you, I needed someone who would understand. But that’s all I was looking for - advice, not money.” 

“I do understand,” Coen repeated. “And I want you to consider my next advice carefully before you tell me no.” 

“Okay,” Simon said warily. 

“I know a great place where you can live while you get back on your feet. It’s safe. Affordable. And you can move in whenever you are ready.” Coen smiled softly.

Simon was confused. Coen didn’t appear to be joking, but if such a perfect solution existed why was he just getting around to proposing it. “What’s the catch?”

“There’s no catch. Just keep an open mind,” Coen said. “The place I’m referring to is my house.”

“Coen,” Simon said, a warning in his tone. 

Coen kept talking. “I have a large house. Really. It’s three stories. You can have the entire second floor to yourself.”

“You have an entire floor that you just don’t use?” Simon asked, distracted from his reluctance by that tidbit of information. 

“It’s a big house. I bought it as an investment property, of course, but I’ve been living in it during the renovation. Which is now complete, so no worries there. The finishings are excellent.” Coen grinned. “I know you would be comfortable there.”

For a moment Simon let himself think about what it would be like to take Coen up on his offer. To have his problems solved in an instant and have a safe, beautiful place to live. But he knew it was just a fantasy. “I’m sure I would be, and it is kind of you to offer, but…” he trailed off. 

“There would be absolutely no strings attached,” Coen interrupted. “I probably should have lead with that.”

“It’s a generous offer. Too generous. You don’t want me underfoot,” Simon said. 

“I have two other floors. And a cellar. And a rooftop garden,” he smiled.

“You what?” Simon said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Are you even real?”

Coen laughed softly. “I told you before, _this_ is what I do. Now, be the intelligent young man I know you are and take me up on this incredible offer.”

Simon could feel his resolve weakening. “It would just be temporary…” 

“You can stay for as long as you need to.” 

“Temporary,” Simon said more firmly. “I will not take your hospitality for granted.” 

“Is that a yes then?” Coen smiled.

“Temporarily,” Simon smiled. “I promise to be clean and as quiet as a mouse.” 

“Don’t feel you need to be, not on my account. And I have a cleaning service.” Coen held out his hand to Simon. “We have an agreement?” 

“A cleaning service?” Simon asked, momentarily holding back his hand. “I feel like I don’t know you at all.” 

Coen tilted his head. “Do I look like someone who cleans?” He asked as he kept his hand out.

“Fair point,” Simon said, shaking Coen’s hand. He felt like a giant weight had been lifted off his shoulders. 

“I was worried that my negotiating skills were failing me,” Coen told him as they finished their handshake. 

“I still feel like there’s some hidden part of this that you are waiting to spring on me. A good negotiator would take advantage of my current mental state,” Simon said, noticing that Coen kept ahold of his hand slightly longer than was strictly necessary. 

“Luckily, I am a good friend as well as a good negotiator. I meant it when I said there were no strings attached. I hope you believe that.”

“I can’t thank you enough,” Simon said. “I’m honestly a bit overwhelmed right now.” 

“You’ve been through a lot. The end of a relationship is never an easy thing,” Coen said. “I hope having a place to stay will alleviate that worry at least.”

Simon swallowed back an unexpected wave of emotion. “Thank you,” he said softly. 

“You’re welcome,” Coen replied quietly. He stared at Simon for a moment then asked, “Have you eaten? I’m famished.”

Simon shook his head. “I haven’t really been in the mood to eat much lately.” 

“Then come with and keep me company,” Coen countered. “I can tell you more about the house.”

“The mansion?” Simon teased as he put his jacket back on. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t call it a mansion . . .” Coen grinned as he got to his feet. 

“I swear to god if we pull up at Buckingham Palace I’m going to kill you,” Simon said, the relief at the events of the evening finally allowing him to laugh.


	5. Chapter 5

Coen looked at the clock for the fifth time in the last fifteen minutes. Simon was due to arrive at any moment and he found himself oddly anxious. He hoped his new guest would find his house to his liking and be comfortable here. With him. 

He made sure the second floor was clean and ready. Simon had his choice of either bedroom on that floor, both rooms had their personal ensuite. The beds had new Egyptian cotton linens with the highest thread count money could buy. He hoped that Simon wasn’t more of a silk sheet man. 

The buzzer sounded and Coen smiled as he headed toward the door to greet the new arrival. 

“Hello,” Coen said as he reached for one of the suitcases that Simon had with him. 

“So remember how I made that joke about Buckingham Palace?” Simon asked by way of greeting. “Ennismore Mews is just as bad,” he smiled. 

“Now don’t be snobbish. It doesn’t suit you,” Coen teased as he looked over Simon’s shoulder. “Do you have more in the cab?” he asked when he saw the black taxi parked at the kerb.

“Just a few more. I can grab them,” Simon said, leaving the bags he’d carried up to the door on the stoop. 

Coen moved the bags inside while Simon returned to the cab. Simon returned quickly and he saw the cab depart. “Will you be bringing the rest of your things later?” he asked as he took a box from Simon. 

Simon kept his eyes averted as he carried the fresh load of bags inside. “This is it. I have some winter clothes in storage but they can stay there for now.” 

“No furniture?” asked Coen. He closed the front door and looked at the small amount of belongings that Simon had brought with him. 

“I moved in with Samuel right after college. I didn’t keep any of my crappy student flat furnishings.” Simon shook his head. “I didn’t think I’d need them,” he added softly. 

Coen had asked the question before thinking it through. The expression on Simon’s face said it all. As pleased as he was to have Simon with him now, Coen knew that this was a painful time for him. “You don’t need them. All the rooms here come furnished,” Coen said with a smile. 

“I’d expect no less from such a posh address,” Simon said. “Why don’t you show me around so I don’t get lost in here.” 

“Right this way,” Coen said as he gestured with a wave of his arm. “As I told you, it’s recently been remodeled so the open floor plan is all new,” he explained as he led Simon through the entryway into a spacious area. “The kitchen is over there. It has a table and chairs there near the window, but the dining room is over there,” he said as he pointed straight ahead. “And the lounge,” Coen added with a wave to the right.

Simon poked his head around the corners looking at each of the spaces. “Do you do much cooking in there?”

“No,” was Coen’s emphatic answer, followed with his usual grin.

“I should have known,” Simon smiled back. “It’s all about the resale value.” 

“I knew you were perfect for this business.” Coen was glad to see Simon’s smile again. “The stairs are over here,” he said as he guided Simon toward them.

“Just a quick learner,” Simon said, blushing at the praise. 

When they reached the top of the stairs, Coen turned to him. “Like I said, there’s two bedrooms on this floor. They both have their own ensuite so take your pick,” he said as he guided Simon to the first room. It was large and spacious with an enormous bed. The two sets of French doors allowed light to fill the airy room.

Simon looked around in amazement. “And you just have this entire floor of your house that you don’t use?”

“I don’t need to use it. My bedroom is upstairs.” Coen took Simon’s hand and led him out of the bedroom and down the hall to the other bedroom, another large room. This one had only one set of French doors, but it also had a fireplace. 

Simon looked down at their joined hands but he didn’t pull away. “You’re making it difficult to choose. Both spaces are lovely.” 

“I hope you feel better about accepting my invitation now that you can see for yourself that I do have enough room for both of us to coexist comfortably,” Coen said as he released Simon’s hand. 

“And you promise you will tell me if I’m getting to be a bother, right? I don’t want to overstay my welcome.” Simon checked out the closets and peeked into the bathroom. 

“I promise,” Coen replied. He was rather hoping that Simon would bother him, but he knew he needed to keep that to himself.

“I still don’t know how I’ll ever manage to repay the favor,” Simon said, coming back out of the bathroom and stopping face to face with Coen. 

Coen didn’t move, he stayed right where he was. “Repay me by letting yourself relax and giving yourself time to heal,” he said quietly as he stared into Simon’s eyes. 

“Thank you,” Simon said, lowering his gaze. “You don’t know how much it means to me to have somewhere to do that.” 

“You deserve it,” Coen told him as he lifted his hand to gently rub Simon’s upper arm. “It will take some time, but you will feel better again.”

“Here’s hoping,” Simon agreed. “A morose roommate is not what you signed up for.”

“That can be your rent. At least one smile a day,” Coen suggested. 

Simon smiled. “It’s a deal.” 

Coen gave Simon’s arm an encouraging squeeze before he let his hand drop to his side. He looked around the large bedroom. “So have you decide which one you would like to call home?” 

“I think I’ll use this one for my living room. And the other for sleeping. But I reserve the right to change my mind,” Simon said.

“Excellent choice. I can arrange to have this bed replaced with a sofa and chairs, maybe a desk . . .” 

Simon shook his head. “I’m going to start calling you my fairy godmother if you keep it up.” 

“I’ve been called worse,” Coen chuckled. He turned back toward the door. “I’ll help you bring up your things.”

“Thank you,” Simon said, “for everything.” 

“You are quite welcome. And should you find that you need something, don’t hesitate to tell me, yes?” He gave Simon a stern look, but the smile was still on his face. Coen had no doubt how independent and stubborn Simon could be, but he also understood that asking for help was not weakness.

“Yes,” Simon agreed. 

/ / / / /

Simon opened his eyes and it took him a moment to realize where he was. He’d slept far better than he had any of the nights in the hotel, but even so his first thought was that he wasn’t home. It wasn’t his bed. 

He rolled over and looked at the window, the sun was starting to rise. He made a note to get a clock for the room and then laughed to himself. Knowing Coen one would just appear over the next few days. He had no idea how he’d ever repay Coen’s generosity, but for the moment he had to agree it was the best solution. 

He’d unpacked just the necessities the night before, but it was enough for him to shower and brush his teeth. Like everything else in the house the water pressure was amazing and the showerhead was the biggest he’d ever seen. When he emerged from the bathroom he could smell coffee and after throwing on some cotton pants and a long sleeved t-shirt he went in search of it.

He remembered that the kitchen was on the first floor, but he managed to turn the wrong way off the stairs. Looping around through the living room he made it to the kitchen and found Coen at the table with the morning paper. 

“Is there enough coffee for two?” he asked, hoping he wasn’t interrupted some needed quiet time for Coen. 

“Of course. Help yourself,” Coen replied as he put the paper away. “How did you sleep?” he asked as he watched Simon walk toward the coffee maker.

“Better than I have been,” Simon said. “Cups?” he asked, looking at the vast array of cabinets.

“To your right.” Coen pointed toward an upper cabinet. “There’s creamer in the refrigerator.”

Simon located what he needed and made his coffee. “Are you always an early riser?”

“I suppose I am. This is about my usual time. Unless I’ve had something that kept me up late the night before,” Coen replied.

“Something or someone?” Simon said, taking a seat at the table. 

Coen looked at Simon from across the table and smiled. “Either. Both.” He shrugged, smiling as he took a drink of his coffee.

Simon liked it when he could make Coen smile. “With all these bedrooms you have plenty of room for overnight guests.” 

“An overnight guest would stay with me in my room,” Coen commented. “But there is a fourth room downstairs. Next to the playroom.”

Simon blushed. He hadn’t been overtly fishing for the information but it was good to know. “That’s convenient,” he murmured, staring at his coffee.

“Yes, it is.” Coen stared at Simon. “Did I embarrass you?” he asked quietly. 

“I didn’t mean to pry into your private life. Just rusty at making small talk I guess.” He sipped his drink, happy to have something to do with his hands. 

“I should apologize. I forget that we don’t really know one another that well. I was taking liberties, the connection we have through our common lifestyle choices.”

“It’s fine,” Simon said. “Does having a playroom help your investment value?” he asked, hoping the joke would smooth things over. 

Coen laughed out loud, rubbing his bearded jaw as he shook his head. “Maybe not monetarily. But I have found value in it.” 

“Definitely makes for an easy commute,” Simon laughed. “No worries about finding a taxi home after a late night.” 

“Despite our current conversation, I can be rather private about that aspect of my life. It’s not something I’ve ever been eager to put on display, so to speak. That’s how I feel when I visit a more public place, like the club,” Coen explained. “But I retain my membership, just in case.” 

Simon nodded. He’d wondered why he’d never seen Coen there. “That makes sense. Still good for networking I’m sure.” 

“Did you use the club often?” Coen asked, treading carefully given Simon’s recent breakup. 

“Some,” Simon said vaguely. He didn’t want to get into the details as to what had happened with Samuel. “One of my mates is a bartender there, so I try to get in there to see him when I can.” 

“A bartender? Your mate’s name wouldn’t be Matt, would it?” asked Coen.

“Yes Matt,” Simon smiled. “Do you know him?”

“We’ve met. He’s the adorable American who stole Reid’s heart,” Coen smiled. “And a great bartender, too.” 

“They seem really happy.” Simon hoped that what they had was more than just good appearances. “I take it you know Reid?”

“I do. I helped him find the property where R.A.C.K. is located,” Coen replied.

“I should have known,” Simon nodded. “And that’s how the party ended up at a gallery you own,” he added, putting the pieces together. 

“I don’t own the gallery,” Coen corrected gently. “Just the building where the gallery is located,” he added with a smile.

“Duly noted.” Simon drank more of his coffee, his brain and senses gradually coming fully online. “Just how many buildings do you own? Or is that uncouth to ask?”

“Given our recent interactions, and the fact that you now live with me,” Coen grinned. “I wouldn’t consider it entirely uncouth. Unfortunately, I don’t know the exact number. But if I were to guess, I’d say at least 30.”

Simon sputtered, his mouthful of coffee trying to escape. “Wow,” he murmured when he managed to swallow and compose himself. “That’s...impressive.” 

“They aren’t all as impressive as the one where the gallery is located, but I have been fortunate,” Coen agreed. “Still waiting for Buckingham Palace to come on the market,” he said teasingly.

“Might have to marry into the family to get your hands on that one,” Simon said. “Refill?” he asked holding his hand out towards Coen’s cup. “I’m getting up anyway.” 

“Yes. Thank you,” Coen said politely as he handed his cup to Simon. 

“How do you take it?” Simon filled both cups and doctored his up while he waited for Coen’s answer. 

“Just cream, please,” replied Coen. 

Simon poured the cream and then delivered Coen his coffee. “Is the color right?” he asked, pausing before he sat down in case he needed to adjust it. 

“Perfect.” Coen said after taking a sip of the hot coffee. “I didn’t offer you breakfast,” he said suddenly. “I’m afraid there isn’t much here at the moment. I haven’t had time to shop for food. That no cooking thing and all.”

“I’m not much of a breakfast eater,” Simon said as he sat back down. “I usually go to the gym in the morning and pick up a protein shake and some fruit when I’m done.” 

“I usually grab something on the way into the office myself,” Coen told him. 

Simon smiled. “Sounds like we’ll have compatible morning habits.” 

“It does. And I do hope you will be comfortable here.”

“My fairy godmother has made sure of that,” Simon teased. 

“Should I start calling you Cinderella?” Coen returned.

“As long as you don’t expect me to start wearing glass slippers,” Simon said. It felt so comfortable talking to Coen, like they’d known each other far longer than they had. 

“Fem play isn’t a hard limit, but no slippers necessary. Truly.” Coen laughed softly before he took another drink of his coffee.

This time Simon was more prepared for that type of remark. “Duly noted.” 

/ / / / /

Coen looked at the invitation on his desk then stared out of the window for a another minute or so before he picked up the phone and called Simon. They had been coexisting for over a month in his house and they rarely saw one another. Coen was beginning to wonder if Simon was avoiding him instead of chalking it up to their mutual busy schedules. 

“Hello,” he replied when Simon answered. “I hope I haven’t caught you in a busy moment?”

“Not at all. I was actually just getting home. Are you here or at work?” Simon asked. 

“I’m at my office,” Coen replied. “I had an offer for you, if you don’t already have plans for tonight?” He picked up the invitation to look at it and hoped he wasn’t making a mistake. He wanted to see Simon, more than that, he wanted to spend time with him. Coen had tried to be respectful of his house guest’s needs, including time to grieve and recover from his previous relationship, but selfishly he was ready to attend to his own needs. One of those being the need to get closer to his beautiful and sexy roommate. 

“What kind of offer?” Simon asked, his voice muffled as he held the phone against his shoulder while he unlocked the door. 

“An invitation to the opening of a new show at the gallery. The one where we first met. I thought you might like to attend. With me,” Coen explained.

“I’d like that,” Simon said after only a moment of thought. “What time?”

Coen smiled and did a fist pump. “It begins at seven,” he replied calmly, despite the inner satisfaction of his victory in Simon’s acceptance. “Shall I meet you there?”

“That’s probably best. I’ll need some time to get ready. I think I remember how to get there. Do you have the address just in case?”

Coen recited the address. “See you soon,” he said.

Two hours later, Coen climbed out of his car and straightened his suit coat. He gave his key to the valet and walked through the glass and chrome doors of the art gallery. There were a number of people there, but he didn’t see Simon among them so he stayed close to the front as he awaited his arrival.

Simon was just a few steps behind Coen and managed to step up behind him without the other man noticing. “I wasn’t sure what the dress code was, but it looks like I chose appropriately.” 

Coen turned, smiling after he gave Simon an appraising look. “You look fantastic,” he said while openly admiring the way he looked in a tailored gray suit and robin’s egg blue shirt. 

Simon ducked his head and smiled. “Thanks.” 

“You are more beautiful than anything here,” Coen added quietly. 

Keeping his head lowered, Simon was quiet for a moment. “You haven’t had a chance to look around,” he said finally. 

“I don’t need to look around to know.” Coen took Simon by the elbow. “There’s an open bar over there. What can I get for you?” he said. He didn’t really want to change the subject but he was suddenly worried about Simon’s reaction to what he’d said.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having. I’m not picky.” Simon let Coen guide him across the room, deftly navigating them around the crowd. 

“Red wine?” Coen asked to be sure then smiled and turned to the bartender when Simon nodded in agreement. 

“Do you always come to the opening of new shows here?” Simon asked as they waited for their wine. 

Coen smiled and shook his head. “No, not really,” he confessed. He didn’t offer Simon the real reason for the invitation but he was going to take advantage of the opportunity nonetheless. “So how have you been? Seems ages since I’ve talked with you.”

“I’ve been trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. I don’t want you to regret letting me stay,” Simon said, taking his wine from the bartender. “I took on a few extra authors at work to try and keep myself busy.” 

“So that’s why I haven’t seen you lately,” Coen commented as he was handed his glass of wine. “I don’t want that, you know.”

“You don’t want me to keep myself busy? Trust me, it’s best for my mental health right now,” Simon said. 

“I don’t want you to be unobtrusive,” Coen clarified before he took a drink of his wine. 

“Oh,” Simon said, realizing what Coen meant. “Maybe my fairy godmother shouldn’t have given me everything I could want. I’d have to venture into other parts of the house then,” he smiled. 

Coen laughed, grateful to see Simon smiling and joking with him after his impromptu confession. “I’m too good at my job.”

Simon laid his hand on Coen’s arm. “Just right I’d say. I’ll try to make myself more available.” 

“I want to be sure you’re all right,” Coen told him. “You’ve had a lot of transitions in a short period of time.”

Simon nodded. “All that alone time is good and bad. It’s good to process and just focus on yourself, but you can also wallow a bit which isn’t good for you.” 

“Why don’t we focus on some art instead?” Coen offered with a smile. “I like that one over there. The colors. They catch your eye from across the room.” He rested his hand at the small of Simon’s back as he guided them through the people and toward the large canvas that covered most of one wall. 

“Ah yes, but the shapes are what keeps you there after the colors have attracted your attention,” Simon said, calling back to their first conversation.

“So true.” Coen’s smile deepened, pleased that Simon recalled what he’d said to him the first time they met. He remembered how thoughtful Simon had seemed as he stared at the painting. Now he understood why. 

“It’s not enough for something to be beautiful on the surface. There has to be something more in something you want to look at permanently.” 

Coen turned his head, steering his gaze toward Simon instead of the painting. He continued to be impressed by the young man standing next to him. “That can be said of more things than art,” he agreed.

Simon turned to look at him. “I would agree,” he said softly. 

Coen continued to stare at Simon. He couldn’t look away and he didn’t want Simon to look away either. He was trying to communicate in their silence, to explain to Simon that he was more than he appeared and how much he wished for Simon to look deeper.

Simon broke eye contact when someone bumped into him from behind, but the momentum caused him to press up against Coen. “Sorry,” he murmured. 

Instinctively, Coen slipped his arm around Simon, then quickly released him when he realized he’d been pushed. The interruption broke the spell between them, but Coen hoped that Simon had felt it, too. “It’s a larger crowd here than the last time,” he said.

“More non-kinky art lovers than kinky ones I suppose,” Simon said, his voice lowered enough to keep from being overheard. “It’s good for you though. A successful gallery means they’ll successfully pay their rent to you.” 

“Excellent point,” Coen smiled. “Would you like to take a spin around the gallery with me? Or should I leave you to go it alone, thoughtful meditation and all that.” 

“We can be thoughtful together. And frankly I’m afraid if we got separated I’d never find you again in this crowd.” 

Coen was glad to hear that Simon would rather stay with him than be alone. He took it as a favorable sign. “I’ll go first, make the path, but keep close, all right?” Coen asked before he began to move between an open space between groups of people.

Simon laid his hand against Coen’s back, the contact between them keeping people from moving into the space they created. “It’s a good thing I’m not claustrophobic,” he said when they stopped in front of the next set of paintings. 

“The size of the rooms helps, the tall ceilings. But it’s still too many people in here right now to fully appreciate the art,” Coen said as he scanned the room then looked back at Simon.

“Should we bail? I’m guessing you can pull the strings for us to come back another time. I know part of being here is about appearances and networking but I feel like you won’t get much of that done with all this going on.” 

“I didn’t mean to imply that I’m not having a good time,” Coen said quickly in apology. “I invited you because I wanted to spend time with you.”

“And I didn’t mean to imply I wasn’t enjoying it… or you,” Simon assured him. “I was just making sure.” 

“Truthfully? I like your idea of coming back when it isn’t so cramped. So let’s bail,” Coen tells him with a smile.

“Finish your wine,” Simon said, holding up his glass with a smile, “and then we’ll go.” 

Coen clinked his wine glass against Simon’s in a silent toast then made quick work of his drink before they made their way through the throng of people to emerge outside. He gave his ticket to the valet and turned to Simon. “Should we go to dinner?” 

“Yes. And then home for more wine in more comfortable clothes,” Simon decreed. 

“A fine plan,” Coen smiled.

Coen drove them to an Italian restaurant not far from the gallery. They had an enjoyable dinner, pasta and more red wine, and easy conversation as they exchanged “war stories” from their respective jobs. Simon was easy to talk to and Coen enjoyed his viewpoint and quick wit. The drive home fell into silence before they reached the house, a nice lull where he didn’t feel the need to fill the space and instead just enjoyed the time spent in a shared quiet. 

Simon waited for Coen to unlock the door leaning against the door while Coen dug out his keys. “I still haven’t gotten used to living here. It’s nice having dedicated parking like this.” 

“I haven’t even asked about your commute? I hope your time to work in the morning isn’t longer,” Coen said as he opened the door then stepped back to let Simon enter first.

“Only about 10 minutes longer. Worth it though.” Simon took off his jacket and hung it by the door. 

“I am glad you like it here,” Coen said as he took a step closer to Simon. “I like having you here.”

“Not rattling around this big place all by yourself?” Simon asked. “That’s probably nice.” 

“That’s not why,” Coen said quietly as he slipped his arm around Simon’s waist, tilting his head as he leaned in for a kiss. 

Simon held his breath, and brought his hands up to Coen’s chest as their lips met. “Stop” he murmured after just a moment, applying just enough pressure with his hands to break the content. “Coen…” 

Coen halted in surprise, leaning back when he realized that Simon wasn’t receptive to his kiss. “I’m sorry,” he said as he took a step back. 

Simon slid his hands over to Coen’s arms and kept him from moving too far away. “This really is a case of ‘it’s not you, it’s me,’ I promise,” he said. “It’s just too soon for me.” 

“I understand. I do. An enjoyable evening with wine and my judgement is blurry with the possibilities,” he murmured.

“Understandable,” Simon said, squeezing Coen’s arm. “Let’s go upstairs and change clothes and crack into another bottle. It’s high time I actually told you the story of what’s going on with me.” 

Coen nodded in agreement as Simon released him. “You go on up and I will open a bottle to let it breathe,” he told him. His instincts and intuition had completely misled him, yet he was grateful that Simon hadn’t taken offense with his advance.

“Meet you back in the living room in ten minutes,” Simon promised as he headed up the stairs. 

As he walked into the kitchen, Coen’s mind was filled with ideas about what Simon was going to tell him. He found the bottle of wine he wanted and set it on the counter as he searched for the cork screw. Coen wondered if Simon was able to move on from his former relationship. Perhaps Simon was contemplating a return to his former dom. 

Coen uncorked the bottle and set it aside. Maybe he was thinking about someone else, maybe not a dom, definitely not him. Coen opened the kitchen cabinet to get two wine glasses, setting them down on the counter next to the wine bottle. He was uneasy about what Simon was preparing to share with him.

Simon wandered into the kitchen. “You haven’t even made it upstairs to change yet,” he teased. “Or did it just take you that long to pick out the wine?”

Coen took off his tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt. “Is that better?” he smiled. Simon looked comfortable in his red plaid pajama pants and white tee shirt. He looked sexy like this, but Coen wouldn’t let himself dwell on that. 

“Go upstairs and change,” Simon said, shooing him off with his hands. “I’ll get the wine poured. We aren’t having a heart to heart while you are wearing a suit.” 

“Yes, sir,” Coen replied teasingly to Simon’s bossiness. “I’ll be back in a tick.” He went upstairs to his closet and paused in the doorway. He had no idea what he should change into. Simon was wearing pajama pants, but Coen didn’t own any pajama pants. Then he remembered the gift from his mother last Christmas. He began rummaging through his dresser until he found them. 

An unopened package containing a set of men’s silk pajamas, deep navy with gold pinstripes. 

Coen rolled his eyes and murmured. “What the hell.” He changed and returned to the kitchen downstairs. Coen held up his arms and did a slow spin for Simon’s viewing pleasure. 

“Silk pajamas,” Simon said with a raised eyebrow. “I wouldn’t have thought of you as the silk pajamas type,” he said, as he handed Coen a glass of wine. 

“You would be correct. Hence the creases.” Coen gestured toward the straight wrinkles in the fabric of his pajamas. “Straight from the package. A gift from my mother.” 

Simon carried his wine into the living room and took a seat on one end of the couch. “So even if you sleep naked, you’re telling me you come home and stay in your suits until you go to bed? Weekends too?”

“Of course not. I have casual clothes, just no pajamas,” Coen replied as he followed Simon and sat in a nearby chair. “I understood that you didn’t want me to be in a suit, but then I wasn’t certain if jeans were still not appropriate in this situation so I opted for my one pair of pajamas.” 

“Drink your wine,” Simon said, shaking his head. 

Coen took a sip of his wine and relaxed in his seat. “Am I overthinking this a bit?” he asked with a slight smile.

Simon smiled. “Just a bit. I think I threw you off your game.” 

“You did. Throw me off. But please don’t misinterpret my attempt to kiss you as some sort of game,” Coen said quietly before taking another sip of his wine.

“That never crossed my mind,” Simon promised. “I saw the way you looked at me in the gallery. Frankly the way you’ve looked at me since we met. I should have said something earlier.” 

“You’re a very attractive man,” Coen murmured.

Simon brushed off the compliment with a wave of his hand. “I was a very taken man when we met. And you could likely have anyone you wanted.” 

“In my defense, I wasn’t looking at your collar . . .” Coen’s voice faded when he looked at Simon. There was no defense. It was true that he’s been attracted to Simon from the moment he saw him staring at the painting in the gallery.

“It’s okay,” Simon said softly. “Truth be told it was a wake up call to me as well. It made me look at my life with fresh eyes.” 

“And what did you see?” Coen asked.

Simon sipped his wine and stared into the glass. “That in my head my life was still like it was four years ago. But my reality was very different.” 

“Do you want to tell me about your life?” Coen was walking a thin line. He wanted to know as much about Simon as he would tell him, yet he didn’t want to push him or make him feel uncomfortable about confiding in him.

“Do I want to, no not really, but I should. I owe you that much. You have to promise me you won’t think less of me though.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Simon,” Coen said softly. 

Simon smiled. “I do though. I owe you everything. And one of the things I owe you is an explanation.” 

Coen acquiesced with a slight shrug and remained quiet so Simon would continue.

“I first met Samuel when I was still in University. Young and impressionable,” Simon said with a fond smile. “A friend of a friend had a membership at R.A.C.K. I went with him on a lark, not expecting to find anything but a bit of fun I could recall fondly when I was older.” Simon could see Coen was listening intently so he continued. 

“We were at the bar having drinks, it’s actually the first night I met Matt as well, and I started chatting him up. We ended up getting a room. It was all very exciting, I hadn’t ever done something like that. We kept in touch, seeing each other when we could, and when I graduated he offered me a contract.” Simon swirled the last bit of his wine around in his glass.

“I accepted and moved in. That was… just over four years ago now.” He shook his head. “Time flies.” 

“That’s a significant amount of time,” Coen said. “And you were happy with him all that time?” 

“I thought I was,” Simon said ruefully. He took a quick break to go to the kitchen and refill his glass. “That sounds terrible” he said when he returned. “I was happy. We were happy. But in the last six months or so his interests started to shift. Shift in ways that weren’t compatible with what I liked.” 

“Shift how?” Coen asked. It wasn’t uncommon in their chosen lifestyle. Interests changed and sometimes people grew apart because of it. 

“He wasn’t content with just me. He wanted to bring in others. Sometimes he liked me to dom them while he watched, sometimes he liked to dom us both at the same time.” Simon took a long drink. “I was sure that if I could just figure out what it was that I wasn’t doing right that things would go back to how they were at first.” 

“You were trying to make yourself into what he wanted. But what about what you wanted?” 

“I wanted to make him happy,” Simon said softly. “Isn’t that what every sub wants?”

“But did he make you happy?” Coen countered. “I think that should be what every dom wants.”

“I was. I was really happy,” Simon said after a long pause. “I just didn’t realize that things had changed. Like a frog in boiling water… change so incremental you don’t notice it at the time.” 

Coen saw the pain in Simon’s expression. “Can I ask how things changed?” 

Simon stared out the window, lost in thought. “He stopped noticing me,” he said finally. 

Coen wanted to ask how that was even possible, but the event earlier showed him that he had to tread carefully with Simon’s emotions. “Did he start noticing someone else?” he asked quietly. He already had an inkling from the time he saw Simon and his dom with another man at the club. 

“No, not really. Not any one person in particular I don’t think,” Simon said. “The people he brought in seemed to rotate, there wasn’t any regularity to any of it.” 

“And you didn’t want any part of that,” Coen said before taking another drink of wine.

Simon shifted his gaze down to his wine. “No, not really.” 

Coen leaned forward, an inherent need to seem closer. “Ending a relationship is never easy, and always painful in some way, but continuing on in a relationship where neither one is getting what he needs can be just as painful.”

“I hadn’t planned to end it. Just to renegotiate it,” Simon confessed. “But I suppose these things happen for a reason.” 

“They do,” Coen agreed. He wished he had something prophetic to say to ease Simon’s pain, but platitudes about closed doors and open windows were not what he needed. Time. That’s the only thing Coen knew that would ease it. 

“And now I know what to include in my next contract,” Simon said ruefully. “Assuming there will ever be one.” 

“What?” Coen asked in surprise. “Why would you think there wouldn’t?”

Simon shook his head with a smile. “Seems like everyone is looking for the newest, youngest model these days. I’m past my prime.” 

“Not everyone,” Coen said with a shake of his head. He could leave right now and pick up five cute twinks with bubble butts and empty brains and none of them would be someone he’d think of being with more than once.

“I haven’t been on the market in a long time. I’ll have to see if I still have value,” Simon said, a smile covering the wince of pain behind his words. 

“Oh stop it . . .” Coen waved his hand. “Self-deprecation doesn’t suit you. You know how attractive you are and I am bloody certain that I wasn’t the only man who’s tried to hit on you within the last few months.” 

“You’re the only one that had the audacity to hit on a kept boy,” Simon chuckled. “Most men aren’t so bold.” 

“I didn’t see the collar,” Coen murmured, shooting Simon a pointed look before he finished his wine.

“Yes, you’ve said that,” Simon smiled. “Maybe someday I’ll believe it.” 

“Do you want another glass of wine?” Coen offered.

“If I have any more I’ll regret it in the morning. I’m not as young as I used to be,” Simon said, setting his glass aside. 

Coen scoffed. “Certainly. You’re ancient, by any standard.” 

“Rub it in why don’t you,” Simon said. “I should retire to my bedroom before I fall asleep right here on the couch being so ancient and all.” 

“Yes, you should. Do you need help getting up the stairs?” Coen stood and extended his hand. 

“Oh bugger off,” Simon laughed. “You can’t be a day younger than me.”

“I am a spry 31,” Coen said. 

“Then I should be helping you up the stairs,” Simon said, taking Coen’s hand. “You might break a hip or something.” 

“Ha ha . . . attractive and funny.” Coen tugged Simon to his feet. “I think I’m safe in these ridiculous pajamas. I’d probably slither down the stair if I did fall.”

“If I hear a thump I’ll come investigate,” Simon promised. He kept ahold of Coen’s hand once he was on his feet and didn’t let him step away. “Thanks for listening,” he said softly. 

“Anytime. Really. I’m here whenever you need to talk.” Coen squeezed Simon’s hand. 

“Thank you.” Simon squeezed back and then let go, gathering their empty glasses and carrying them to the kitchen. 

Coen followed. He put a stopper in the wine bottle as Simon rinsed the glasses. 

“Goodnight,” Simon said when they were finished cleaning up. 

“Goodnight,” Coen replied. He watched Simon go up the stairs and sighed softly before turning off the kitchen light and following him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, sooooo many apologies for not posting the chapter sooner.

“No, I understand,” Simon said, jotting a few notes on a pad of paper. “Yes, I read the cancellation policy, I was just hoping…” he trailed off and let the woman continue. “Yes. Of course. Thank you for your time.” He hung up the call and sighed, slumping back in the kitchen chair. He looked up just in time to see Coen watching him from the doorway. 

“I didn’t hear you come in. You’re home early from work tonight.” 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” Coen gave him a smile. 

“You’re forgiven. I was too wrapped up in my phone call to pay attention.” He laid his phone down on top of his notes. “How was your day?”

“Better than yours by the look of it.” Coen took a seat at the kitchen table where Simon was sitting.

“It’s my own fault.” Simon said. “I’d booked this trip… an anniversary trip,” he said with a shake of his head. “And I missed the cancellation deadline. Totally slipped my mind until I got the reminder that the balance was due.” 

“A trip where?” Coen asked. 

“A spa retreat out in the country. We went once when we were first dating and I thought he’d like to go back. It’s on a lake so you can hike or just sit and relax,” Simon said, smiling fondly at the memory. “Nothing exciting, just a chance to get away and relax.” 

“Sounds wonderful. Why not go ahead and go? Since it sounds like you’re not going to get out of the reservation,” Coen said. 

“Yes as the lady so helpfully pointed out, I’m past the cancellation without penalty phase.” Simon sighed. “I feel like being there by myself wouldn’t be the healthiest thing for me right now.” 

“Too many memories?” Coen asked. 

“Too much alone time. I’ll think myself right into a funk.” Simon sat up in his chair and then leaned forward. “You should come with me. I think you could use a break, you work too hard.”

Coen’s eyes widened. “Me? Wouldn’t you rather ask one of your friends?” 

“You are one of my friends,” Simon pointed out. “You’ve been so generous to me I’d love to be able to treat you to a weekend away.” 

Coen was a silent for a long moment, obviously thinking over Simon’s offer. “Are you sure about this?”   
Simon hesitated, he didn’t want to push Coen into something he didn’t want to do. “I don’t want you to feel obligated. But if you think you’d enjoy it I’d love your company.” 

“I’m sure I would enjoy it. Who wouldn’t? Being pampered at a spa.” Coen looked at Simon. “All right. Yes. I’ll go.”

“Excellent,” Simon smiled. “I’ll email you the details. There’s just one little thing you have to do in return.” 

“What’s that?” Coen asked with a soft laugh.

“I need you to drive,” Simon confessed. “I don’t have a car, which you know, and it seems silly to rent one just to drive there and have it sit all weekend.” 

Coen nodded. “I can do that.” 

“Perfect. Once again you’ve saved the day.” Simon was once again amazed at how just a few minutes with Coen could complete change his outlook on a situation. 

“Just don’t refer to me as your fairy godmother in public, yeah?” Coen joked.

“I think I can manage to restrain myself,” Simon laughed. 

/ / / / /

“I bought you something for our trip,” Simon said, presenting Coen with a small shopping bag. “I felt you were in need.” Coen had graciously driven the whole way and now they were settling into their room. Simon still felt a little guilty about convincing Coen to tag along, but he had to admit he enjoyed the company. 

Coen looked at the bag and gave Simon a perplexed smile. “For me?” he asked as he looked into the bag. His head went back as he laughed out loud. “Thank you,” Coen said as he pulled the cotton pajama pants and a white t-shirt out of the bag. 

“I know you prefer to relax in the nude but we are in close quarters and you might feel the need to cover up on the way to the hot tub,” Simon said, although if he was being honest with himself a glimpse of Coen in far less than pajamas wouldn’t be all that unwelcome. 

“I thought you were afraid that I brought the silk pajamas,” Coen teased.

“You do you. If you prefer those…” Simon smiled. 

Coen laughed again, shaking his head. “I like these better. And no worries about me walking around in the nude. I brought a pair of swim trunks for the hot tub.”

“Excellent planning,” Simon said. He carried his bag into the bedroom where the king bed sat right in the middle. “Sorry about the sleeping arrangements. They couldn’t get us moved into a room with two beds.” 

“It’s fine with me. How are you with this arrangement?” Coen asked.

“I’m fine. There’s plenty of room for both of us.” Simon laid his bag on the bed and started to unpack. “I had some massages and sauna time already pre-booked but make sure you take a look to see if there is anything you want to add. They are usually pretty good about getting you whatever you want.” 

“It’s not strange? Being here with me?” Coen sat down on the bed next to Simon’s suitcase.

“Because I was supposed to be here with Samuel?” Simon asked, getting straight to Coen’s point. 

“Yes. These place screams romance and togetherness. And sex.” Coen looked up at Simon, a smile on his face.

Simon shook his head. “To me it screams rest, relaxation, and renewal. I guess we all see things differently. There’s no right or wrong way to look at things.” 

“If you say so,” Coen said, his tone doubtful. “Massages and saunas it is then,”

Simon rounded the end of the bed and laid his hand on Coen’s arm. “I appreciate you doing this with me. I don’t think being all by myself would have been good. I know it’s not the typical arrangement but I think we can make it work, yeah?”

“Sure thing. We enjoy each other’s company, right?” Coen said cheerfully. 

“And you could use some relaxation. You work too hard,” Simon said, squeezing Coen’s arm before he let go. “Have you ever had a hot stone massage?”

“No. You do remember that I’m the one usually the one inflicting pain, not receiving it,” Coen joked.

Simon blushed. He definitely remembered. “In much the same way, massages might hurt at the time but you feel so much better at the end.” 

Coen got to his feet, standing close to Simon. He brushed his finger over Simon’s cheek with a barely there caress. “Count me in,” he said softly before he moved away to begin unpacking his own suitcase.

Simon could feel the burn of Coen’s touch long after he stepped away. He wondered if this had been a bad idea after all. Far too dangerous given the simmering tension of arousal between them. He returned to his bag, putting the bed between them. “Do you like to hike? The lake is beautiful this time of year. Or are you more of a wine by the fire type.” 

“I like both of those. Actually, I was planning on walking to Grasmere tomorrow. There’s a gingerbread shop there that is a favourite of my mother’s.” 

“Oh, did you grow up around here?” Simon still felt like he knew so little about Coen even though they were living together. 

“No. I’m a Londoner. My parents had a holiday near Grasmere and my mother still talks about the gingerbread,” Coen replied.

“Then we will go in search of the gingerbread,” Simon promised. He found something endearing about the fact that Coen could probably pay for any gingerbread in the country to be delivered to his door but he wanted the experiencing of going to the store his mother enjoyed. 

“We might pass a lake or two on the way then we can count it as a hike and have wine by the fire when we get back,” he said as he hung a shirt in the closet.

“You are very easy to please,” Simon said, biting his lip when he realized how that might sound. 

Coen looked over his shoulder just in time to see Simon biting his lip. “I can be.”

Simon carried his bag of toiletries into the bathroom, using that as an excuse for a moment of privacy to compose himself. He was going to have to be more careful or it was going to be a long weekend. 

/ / / / / 

Coen thanked the young man who delivered their dinner, tipping him generously before he left and closed the door behind him. “It smells delicious,” he said as he joined Simon at the cozy table in their room. “What are we having?” Coen asked as he lifted one of the cloques to see. 

“Some sort of pasta dish. I requested room service for the first night because I figured we would be tired after driving up here. I think it is a chicken pesto if I remember right.” Simon took a seat at the small table and handed a set of silverware over to Coen. 

“You are an excellent companion for traveling. The way you plan ahead and anticipate needs,” Coen complimented as he unfolded his napkin and laid it over his lap. 

“I wanted everything to be perfect.” Simon shook his head as he reached over to dish up the pasta. “Maybe I should have paid more attention to my present rather than planning for the future.” 

“None of that,” Coen warned gently. “This weekend is not about him or what was. We’re living in the now and we are going to enjoy ourselves. Starting with this delicious meal.” Simon had been in a good mood and Coen wanted to do his best to ensure his travel mate remained that way. 

“Wine?” Simon asked, taking the bottle out of the chiller and examining the label. 

“Yes, please,” Coen replied. “I need this sort of service at home. Someone to bring me food and wine and all I need do is answer the door.” 

“I’m sure the club could find someone like that for you,” Simon teased. “Reid likes to be sure his members get everything they need.” He poured them each a glass and returned the wine to the holder. 

Coen laughed. “I think Reid might be more familiar with a different kind of delivery service.” He took a bite of his pasta and made an appreciate sound as he chewed.

“Well yeah. The dinner would come with a pretty little sub to serve it to you.” Simon tasted the pasta and sighed with contentment. “I think I made a good choice.” 

Coen liked the soft sound Simon made. He wanted to hear it again. “Excellent choice,” he agreed. 

Simon smiled. “I mean it’s not like I can’t have pasta at home, but there’s just something about being out here that makes it taste better.” 

“It’s a proven fact that vacation food tastes better than home food,” Coen said with a straight face.

“I’ll have to remember that little fact,” Simon said. “I think I got the fruit plate for dessert so by all accounts it should be amazing.” 

“You really do think of everything,” Coen said with an admiring smile. 

Simon demurred. “It’s just dinner,” he said with a wave of his hand. 

“It’s more than that,” Coen paused as he thought about what he wanted to say. “It’s thoughtfulness. Caring. You are a caring person.”

“I try to be,” Simon said. “I like to think I succeed on occasion.” 

“You succeed,” Coen said with a nod before he put another fork full of pasta into his mouth. 

“And you are the thoughtful, caring person who sacrificed yourself because you were worried about me being here alone,” Simon said, looking at Coen over another bite of pasta. 

Coen finished chewing. He smiled and pointed to himself. “Who me? Naaah. I’m just here for the stone massage,” he said with a wink.

“Sure,” Simon laughed. “You who said you weren’t into pain.” 

“Oh, I’m into it. Into giving it more than receiving it.” Coen took a drink of his wine. “I am even more into giving pleasure,” he added. 

Simon took a long drink of his wine as well. “That’s good to know,” he said softly. 

Coen stared at Simon, perking up at the quiet comment. He would love the opportunity to prove it to Simon, love to see the other man replete with the pleasure Coen gave him. 

“You’re staring at me,” Simon murmured over the top of his wine glass. 

“Am I?” Coen asked with no attempt to look away. “You are very enjoyable to look at, what can I say?”

Simon smiled to himself. “I didn’t say you had to stop,” he pointed out. 

“Good. So I have your permission to stare at you this weekend?” Coen asked, mirroring Simon with a smile of his own.

“Would you think less of me if I said it was nice to have someone pay attention to me like that? I promise I’m not an attention whore or anything. It just feels good once in awhile.” 

“I would never think less of you. You deserve someone who will pay attention to you,” Coen replied. Simon was incredible - a beautiful, desirable man who just wanted someone to give him the attention he deserved. 

Simon smiled. “You flatter me.” He refilled both their wine glasses, and then sat back in his chair. 

“It’s not flattery when it’s the truth,” Coen countered. 

Simon leaned forward. “And what about you? You deserve someone too. Handsome, intelligent, successful, I’m sure you could have anyone you wanted.”

“I most certainly do deserve someone,” Coen agreed immediately. “Know anyone who’s available?” It wasn’t playing fair to resort to humour to evade Simon’s question, but a truthful answer would do him no good with his current goal of wooing Simon.

“Is that what you want? Something serious and long term?” Simon cradled his wine glass in his hands. “For some reason you didn’t seem that type.” 

Just his luck, Simon was far too intuitive to try and fool. “What type do I seem?” Coen asked, his tone now serious.

Simon studied Coen for a moment. “Like the type that doesn’t want any muss and fuss. No entanglements, nothing that you can’t be in complete control of.” 

“You should know that last one, that runs deep. Probably genetic.” Coen took a sip of wine as he thought about his response. “I don’t mind muss and fuss, to a degree. I like being a problem solver, the one you go to for solutions. It’s a major part of my profession to help others with their muss and fuss, so I don’t think I mind it so much in my own life. Entanglements. That is a bit more tricky.”

“Tricky as in you’ve had them and couldn’t get out of them or that you just avoid them all together?”

“Either. Both,” Coen admitted. “It’s not their fault. I take full responsibility. I know I am not the easiest person to deal with, but we all have our faults and strengths. A long-term relationship is something I have yet to master.”

“Long-term relationships aren’t some holy grail that everyone has to aspire to. Some people are perfectly happy without entanglements and commitments,” Simon pointed out. 

“You’re right. That’s the one thing that is even more difficult to master - being perfectly happy.” Coen lifted his glass. “Here’s to finding happiness,” he toasted.

“To finding happiness,” Simon repeated, touching their glasses together. 

“And now it’s time to find the fruit plate,” Coen said with a grin. 

“Agreed.” Simon cleared their dinner plates, putting them on the bottom of the room service cart. He moved the last platter to the table and removed the lid. “As good as promised,” he proclaimed. 

“Well done you,” Coen said as he perused the offerings. He selected a large strawberry and dragged it through the chocolate dipping sauce before holding it up to Simon. “Your reward. For being the best travel companion.”

Simon leaned over and bit the strawberry in half, right out of Coen’s hand. 

Coen was surprised, pleasantly surprised, at Simon’s unexpected move. He was also mesmerized by the way Simon looked, a pleased smile on his face and his lips damp with juice from the berry. “How does it taste?” asked Coen.

“Fabulous,” Simon said. “What’s your favorite,” he said, surveying the tray as he licked his lips. 

“Mango,” Coen replied as he handed the other half of the strawberry to Simon. “I like pineapple, too.”

Simon finished his strawberry and then selected a pineapple wedge for Coen. “For the other best travel companion,” he said, holding it out.

Coen grinned then leaned in, taking a bite of the pineapple as Simon held it. “Delicious,” he murmured before he took the rest of it, his lips brushing against Simon’s fingers.

Rather than get a plate, Simon just ate directly from the platter. “I think I could eat a fruit plate at just about every meal.” 

“There something very sensual about eating with your hands,” Coen said as he dipped another strawberry in the chocolate sauce and took a bite of it. He was having a whole new appreciation for food kink and indulging in thoughts of Simon tied to a bed and being hand fed strawberries by him.

“This way you get to lick the juice off your fingers. Just goes to waste on a fork,” Simon smiled, demonstrating the merits of his plan. 

Coen watched in open admiration. He wanted to be the one licking the juice off Simon fingers and sharing the taste with him in a kiss. Coen cleared his throat and reached for his wine glass. “Did you order a fruit plate for tomorrow?” 

“Yes. They are my guilty pleasure here,” Simon confessed. 

Coen nodded and took a sip of wine. It was going to be a challenging weekend. 

/ / / / /

Simon stirred, his natural body clock waking him early despite the fact that there was nothing to keep him from sleeping in. He yawned and started to stretch, only to discover that Coen was pressed up behind him with his left arm draped around his waist. Simon froze, not wanting to wake him up. He was sure that Coen hadn’t done it on purpose and he didn’t want the moment to be any more awkward than it had to be. 

Coen shifted, his nose rubbing against the nape of Simon’s neck as his arm tightened around him. 

Simon closed his eyes, trying to decide how to proceed. He gently lifted Coen’s arm and tried to slip out from underneath. 

The motion caused Coen to stir and reflexively pull the person in his embrace closer as he nuzzled against the warmth and softness of Simon’s shoulder. He murmured something unintelligible then sighed sleepily.

“Coen,” Simon said softly, his hand still grasping the other man’s arm. “Coen, I need to get up.” 

“Hmm?” was his muffled response.

“I need to use the bathroom,” Simon said, which wasn’t entirely true but gave him a plausible excuse for waking Coen up. 

“What?” Coen rasped as his eyes blinked open. His reaction was slow, as if he had to figure out where he was and what was happening. “Oh… sorry,” he apologized as he slowly released Simon from his embrace. “Good morning,” Coen said as he rubbed his eyes and smiled.

“Good morning,” Simon said, patting Coen’s arm before he released it. “Be right back.” He escaped to the bathroom and used the facilities. He stared at himself in the mirror as he washed his hands. He tried to push away the thought that waking up in Coen’s arms had felt good. He tried to remind himself that it wasn’t what he needed right now. He failed.

Slipping back into bed, he found that Coen had moved over, putting a respectful distance between them once again. “Sorry to wake you so early,” he said in apology. 

“It’s fine. What time is it?” Coen asked groggily.

“Probably around six. That’s when I usually wake up. You should go back to sleep,” Simon said softly. 

“That’s when I usually get up, too.” Coen yawned and rubbed his beard. “Must be the country air,” he said with another smile. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did. This bed is amazing,” Simon said. He turned onto his side so he could look at Coen. 

“Mmm, very comfortable. I hate to get up, but I need to use the facilities myself,” he said as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, stretching his arms into the air as he walked toward the bathroom. 

Simon watched him go and then fell back onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. Maybe it had been a bad idea to invite Coen. 

Coen opened the door to the bathroom then hurried back to the bed. “It’s a bit chilly this morning,” he said as he slipped back into the bed. 

“I like it to be cool when I sleep,” Simon said. “I can turn the thermostat up though if it bothers you.” There was still so much he didn’t know about Coen. It was a good reminder that what he felt was just biological attraction. 

“No, I’m fine under the duvet,” Coen replied. “So, we both usually get up at six. Are we going to be men of leisure and lie around for a bit or should we get dressed and start our day?” 

“I was planning on a lie-in, but you can get up if you’d like. Our massage appointments are at nine so as long as we are up by then we won’t miss out.” Simon helped reposition the duvet so it was covering them both. 

“Then a lie-in it is.” Coen fluffed his pillow and laid back down facing Simon. “Do they deliver breakfast, too?” he asked.

“I’m sure they do. I didn’t order that ahead,” Simon admitted. “Are you much of a breakfast eater?”

“Not a full English breakfast, but I usually eat something before going to the office,” Coen replied. 

“I can order us up another fruit plate,” Simon smiled “I’m usually just a coffee drinker in the morning but you know how I feel about the fruit.” 

“I am becoming rather fond of the fruit plate myself,” Coen smiled as he stared at Simon, his gaze dropping to Simon’s mouth. 

Simon followed Coen’s gaze and blushed when he remembered how forward he’d been the night before. “You just want to feed me strawberries again,” he said quietly.   
“Yes, I do,” Coen replied softly.

“That’s dangerous,” Simon said though his tone was not at all convincing.

“Why?” Coen asked as he lifted his finger to caress Simon’s bottom lip.

“Because it might lead to more.” Simon knew he should pull away but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

“More what?” Coen urged, his tone still gentle.

“You know the answer to that,” Simon said. “You’re a smart man,” he smiled. 

“What I don’t know is why more would be a bad thing,” Coen cupped Simon’s cheek.

Simon searched Coen’s face, debating on whether to tell him the truth. “Because I’m fresh out of a long term relationship and you’re only interested in casual. It’s a recipe for hurt feelings and ruined friendships and business partnerships.” 

Coen let his hand drop. “Sounds like you’ve thought about this.” 

Simon’s skin felt cold where the warmth of Coen’s hand had been. “I have. It’s hard not to think about it.” 

“Because you’re a smart man, too,” Coen said.

“What about you? Have you thought about it?” Simon asked. 

“From the moment I first saw you that night in the gallery,” Coen answered without hesitation.

“And you don’t have the same doubts?” Simon inched closer without even fully realizing what he was doing. 

“No. But I’m not the one who’s been hurt recently,” he said softly. “I will say this though, Simon. A long-term relationship doesn’t start out that way from the beginning. It begins casually.”

“And you think we can do casual and it won’t hurt the other parts of our relationship?” Simon asked skeptically. 

“I can only speak for myself,” Coen replied. “I’m glad we’ve had the opportunity to know one another professionally and I hope you consider me a friend. I haven’t let my attraction to you take anything away from that, have I?”

Simon managed a smile. “No. But attraction and acting on it are two different things.” 

Coen caressed Simon’s face again. “You’re right. And I am not keeping up my end of this deal. I apologize. And I think the best thing for me to do is leave this warm, comfy bed and the attractive man in it and go get myself some breakfast.” 

“I’m sorry,” Simon said softly. He could feel the ache and regret in Coen’s voice and he hated being the cause. 

“There’s no reason to be,” Coen said with a smile as he rolled out of the bed. “Enjoy your lie-in and I will see you at the massage.”

Simon watched him go, wanting to call him back and ask him to stay. 

/ / / / /

Coen changed into his swim shorts. The weekend was almost over and he was determined to try out the hot tub before they had to leave tomorrow morning. Between hot stone massages and long walks in the scenic countryside, Coen was probably the most non-relaxed person in Cumbria at the moment. 

After his conversation with Simon, he had made a concerted effort to dial back his open flirtation, but their talk had done nothing to hinder his attraction to the other man. Coen kept reminding himself that Simon needed time, that he was barely out of his former relationship and obviously still mending from his former dom’s rejection. It was an emotion that Coen could only sympathize with, never having experienced it for himself. He only wished there was some way to help Simon move on, and more specifically, move on with him. 

Coen grabbed a towel and walked out of the bathroom. “I’m ready!” he announced with a wide smile, his arms spread out as if presenting himself for inspection. 

“That you are,” Simon smiled, picking up his towel. “Shall we?”

Coen walked behind him, secretly admiring Simon in his loose fitting blue swim trunks. The night air had a bit of a chill but the sky was clear of clouds and full of stars. It was beautiful and peaceful, perfect for time in the hot tub. Coen dipped his hand into the water to test the temperature while Simon slipped off his shoes. 

“Feels good,” he announced as he laid his towel on a nearby lounge chair. 

Simon turned the knob to start the jets. “And the air is just cool enough to keep us from getting too boiled.” 

“After you,” Coen said politely, gesturing for Simon to get in first. He held out his hand in case Simon wanted to hold for balance. 

Simon gratefully took Coen’s hand and climbed in, sighing appreciatively as the hot water soaked into his muscles. “I can’t believe you have a giant house and no hot tub.” 

“The tub in my ensuite has jacuzzi jets. I thought I was covered,” Coen chuckled as he followed Simon into the tub, sinking down into the heated, bubbling water. “Oh, this is nice,” he murmured appreciatively as he relaxed on one of the built-in seats. 

“Ah, I’ll have to sneak up there and check them out,” Simon said. He tipped his head back and sank as low as he could in his seat. “The view probably isn’t as good though.” 

“You’re right. You can’t see stars like this in London.” Coen tipped his head back, too, and closed his eyes as he let the warmth seep into his skin, relaxing his muscles. 

“The city has its other perks but you have to admit it is nice to get away once in awhile.” Simon said. 

“It is. I’m enjoying myself,” Coen said. Despite the issues of attraction and limits, it’s been a good weekend spending time with Simon. He opened his eyes and lifted his head. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Thank you for coming,” Simon said, cracking his eyes open to look over at Coen. “And for being a good sport about my neurosis.” 

“I wouldn’t call you neurotic,” Coen smiled. “Just cautious. Which you have a right to be. No one can fault you for wanting to be careful.”

“Well they can,” Simon pointed out with a laugh. “I just need to learn to trust my instincts again. I always thought they were good but when you realize you missed something so huge it throws you off balance.” 

“What you’ve been through, it’s not your ordinary break-up. It cuts even deeper because of the type of relationship it was,” Coen says quietly. 

Simon nodded. “It made me realize that being so utterly dependent on someone else isn’t necessarily a good thing.” 

“I don’t like to judge, but I do think it was wrong what he did. The way he did it. Knowing the situation that he would be putting you in.”

“In fairness to him I don’t think he saw the request to negotiate the contract coming. I feel bad that I blindsided him like that,” Simon said, closing his eyes again and sinking lower into the water. 

“He should have,” Coen said without hesitation. “He should have known how unhappy you were to compel you to request it.”

Simon sighed. “I was good at hiding it.” 

“I knew you were unhappy the night I met you, Simon.” 

Simon lifted his head and looked over at Coen. “How?”

“Your expression. Your body language. The way you were staring at that painting, but your thoughts were a million miles away,” Coen replied. “Am I wrong?”

Simon looked away. “No,” he said softly. 

Coen moved across the tub and sat next to Simon, putting himself in the other man’s line of sight. “I can’t sit here and let you blame yourself for everything that happened and not say something about it.”

“You saw something in me that I hadn’t even let myself see.” Simon said trailing his hands through the bubbles on the surface. 

“It’s a special bond, the one between a dom and his sub. It requires a lot of trust. From what you’ve told me, that trust wasn’t broken by you,” Coen told him.

“I just keep thinking about what might have happened if he hadn’t encouraged me to look at investment opportunities. I’d probably still be there, miserable on the inside but trying to pretend I wasn’t.” 

Coen stared at Simon for a long moment. He didn’t want to make the mistake of reading more into what Simon said than what he’d meant. “Are you saying the time you spent with me contributed to your decision?” 

“Absolutely,” Simon said, dropping his hand and focusing on Coen. “Being around you pushed me to think about what I wanted.” 

“And now? What do you want now?” asked Coen.

“Million pound question, right?” Simon smiled ruefully.

“If you don’t know what you want, how can you know what you don’t want?” Coen reached for Simon’s hand, linking his fingers through his own. 

“Sometimes the don’t wants are easier,” Simon said, squeezing Coen’s hand. 

“It was easy to decide you didn’t want me?” Coen asked quietly. 

“That’s not it at all,” Simon said, rubbing his thumb across the back of Coen’s hand. “Nothing is easy when it comes to you.” 

The gentle touch to his hand was the tiniest bit of encouragement and Coen didn’t let himself ignore it. He tugged Simon closer, it was so easy, they were weightless in the warm warm water. “It can be easy,” Coen whispered. “It can be so easy.” 

Simon didn’t resist, floating over and coming to a stop up against Coen’s warm wet skin. 

Coen slid his fingers through the damp hair at the back of Simon’s neck, pulling him into the kiss. He feared that Simon might push him away again, but hoped he would just allow himself to feel this time instead of think. Coen pressed his lips against Simon’s.

Simon relaxed into the kiss, the tension draining from his neck and shoulders. 

Simon’s lips were as soft and sweet as Coen thought they would be and they parted for him just perfectly as he deepened the kiss. 

Breathless, Simon turned his head just enough to break the kiss. He didn’t move away, their lips still just inches apart. ‘I shouldn’t,” he said unconvincingly. 

“If you tell me to stop, I will,” Coen told him although he desperately wanted to continue the tender exploration of more kisses with Simon.

“I know. And I appreciate that,” Simon whispered. “But I’m not ready to give you more so it seems cruel to continue.” 

Coen traced Simon’s cheekbone with his thumb. “It’s all right. I understand,” he said softly. 

“Liar,” Simon smiled sadly. “I know you don’t understand why I’m holding back.” 

“Ouch,” Coen winced with a smile. “Then tell me. Why are you holding back?”

“Sometimes I don’t know either,” Simon admitted. 

“I think that means you just need more time to figure things out.” Coen moved a respectable distance away from Simon, but not too far. “I get that. Starry nights and hot tubs aside.” 

“Starry nights and hot tubs and steamy kisses,” Simon said, settling back into his own seat.


	7. Chapter 7

Simon tightened the belt on his robe and used his fingers to comb his wet hair. It was getting long, the curls that Samuel always hated showing themselves. For once he didn’t have to go running off to get it cut at the first hint of them. He wondered when he’d finally stop thinking about things like that.

His resolve from the night before was still there though, a determination to at least test the waters. He went down to the kitchen and found Coen right where he expected, at the table with his coffee and paper. 

“Good morning,” he said, pouring his own mug of coffee. “Anything exciting happening in the world today?”

“Always.” Coen smiled in response. “I’m finished, if you’d care to take a look?” He folded the paper and offered it to Simon.

“I trust you,” Simon said with a wave of his hand. “I read enough for work as it is, I’ll leave the world news for you.” 

“How is it at work? Now that you’re working more hours?” Coen asked as he set the newspaper aside.

Simon made a face. “Am I allowed to hate it? I know it makes me sound lazy, but I really liked my old schedule.” 

“It doesn’t make you sound lazy. Although, I am sorry to hear that you don’t enjoy your job,” Coen replied. “I’m fortunate to be able to work at something I do enjoy. I forget how lucky I am.”

“That’s not it exactly, I love my job. I just wish I had more of the balance I used to have. Hopefully my investment will pay off and I can back off a little again.” Simon frowned. The conversation wasn’t going at all how he envisioned. 

“Oh, I misunderstood. It’s a good part-time job, but not something you wanted full-time. I think I understand now,” Coen said with a smile. 

Simon was pretty sure someone as driven as Coen didn’t understand at all, but he let it go. “Can I get you more coffee?” he asked, trying to change the tone and direction of their conversation?

Coen glanced at the time. “I suppose I have time for another cup. My first meeting isn’t until later.” 

“Coming right up,” Simon said, carrying the cup over to the pot. He refilled Coen’s cup and then set it back in front of him, lingering there by Coen’s shoulder. 

“Thank you.” Coen looked up at Simon. “Everything all right?” he asked before reaching for the creamer. 

“Can I ask you something?” Simon said softly, laying his hand on Coen’s shoulder. 

“You can ask me anything, Simon,” Coen replied. He set the creamer back down without having used it.

Simon debated giving some sort of introduction to his thought process but he couldn’t string together the right words so he jumped right to the meat of it. “I want to submit to you. I have to. Just to see.” 

Coen looked up at Simon. “Just to see?” he asked as he took hold of Simon’s hand from where it was resting on his shoulder. 

Simon nodded. “To see if what I’m feeling means something or if it is just the relief of a glass of water being given to a man dying of thirst.” 

“You’ve thought about this?” Coen asked quietly, his hand giving Simon’s hand a slight squeeze.

“Pretty much constantly since we got home,” Simon admitted. 

“Sit,” Coen said as he guided Simon back to his seat. He moved his chair closer and placed his hand on Simon’s knee. “Are you asking now because you feel pressured?” 

Simon was relieved that Coen hadn’t shut down the idea right off the bat. “Pressured how?”

Coen smiled. “Our weekend together. Our kiss.”

“Are you asking if I want to do this because I think you expect it from me?” Simon asked, curious as to what Coen was thinking. 

“No. I hope you know I don’t expect it from you. I’m asking because I’m concerned that I’ve been too aggressive with you. With my attraction to you.” 

Simon smiled. “And that’s why I need to see. Am I starved for attention and just needing to be the object of someone’s desire again? Or is there a deeper connection there?” He didn’t say that he had a hunch about which one it was, the last thing he wanted to do was influence Simon’s reactions. 

“And you want to sub for me to find out,” Coen said in answer to Simon’s questions. 

“I do.” Simon said, adding, “if you are willing,” as an afterthought. 

“Of course I am willing. On one condition,” Coen told him.

Simon laid his hand over Coen’s. “Ok,” he said a little warily. 

“That you’re completely honest with me, and yourself, on how you feel afterward. If there is a connection.”

“And can I ask the same of you?” Simon asked, stroking his fingers over Coen’s hand. 

“Yes,” Coen nodded. “I will always be honest with you, Simon. I want you to trust me.”

Simon felt flushed, and he was sure that Coen could tell how much even the conversation about submitting was affecting him. “I do trust you.” 

Coen brushed a lock of Simon’s hair away from his forehead then caressed his cheek. “I would be honoured to have you sub for me,” he said softly.

“Tonight?” Simon asked. Realizing too late that he sounded too eager. “Or another time.” 

“Tonight is fine. You have your list?” asked Coen.

“I can get it for you. I’ll have the club messenger a copy to your office,” Simon’s heart was racing in a way it hadn’t for a long time. 

“Are you comfortable with using my playroom here or would you rather go to the club?” Coen took hold of Simon’s hand again as he waited for his response.

“Here is fine. Much more convenient after all,” Simon said with a smile. 

“I should be home this evening by six. What time will you arrive?” 

“I’ll be here when you get home,” Simon said. He’d already mentally cleared his day, knowing there was no way he would get anything productive done. 

“Meet me in the playroom at 6:30. Don’t bother with clothes. You won’t need them.” Coen smiled.

Simon felt his cheeks burn even hotter. “Yes Sir,” he said softly. 

Coen touched Simon’s heated face. “I’m looking forward to seeing the other spots where your skin turns pink.”

“Looking forward to that as well,” Simon said. “Are you actually going to get any work done today?”

“I’ll make some time for thoughts about you. And tonight,” Coen replied with a smile. He looked at the clock and sighed. “But I do need to be going now. I’ll see you this evening,” Coen told him before he gave Simon a tender kiss on his cheek. 

Simon closed his eyes for a moment, just savoring how all his fears from the night before had been unfounded. “See you tonight.” 

/ / / / /

Coen dried his hands and laid the towel aside. He looked at the mirror and took a deep breath. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this anxious, an unusual case of nerves. Coen felt as if he was going on a job interview and in many ways, he was. He guessed that Simon might be feeling just as nervous about their first scene together - his first scene with another dom in over four years. Yet another reason that Coen wanted to make the experience a good one for Simon.

He checked his appearance, the black wife beater tee shirt, black jeans and boots that he usually wore for a formal scene. It was a completely different look from his usual professional attire, but he had always felt the need to delineate the two sides of his life while in scene. 

Coen took the stairs down to where the playroom was located. He had left it unlocked for Simon when he left for work that morning. The door was closed and for a brief moment, he wondered if Simon would be there on the other side of it. He opened the door to see Simon kneeling on the floor, eyes down. Coen closed the door and approached, stopping right in front of him. 

“Hello,” Coen said as he took in the lovely sight before him. Simon nude and on his knees was a beautiful thing. 

“Hello Sir,” Simon said quietly, remaining perfectly still.  
“I received your list today. It appears we are very compatible,” Coen said as he ran his hand over Simon’s bare shoulder. “I didn’t see a safeword. Is there a word you prefer? Or we can can use green-yellow-red.” 

“Let’s use green-yellow-red for now. More delineation than just a safeword,” Simon said, shivering slightly at Coen’s touch. 

“Agreed.” Coen slid his fingers into Simon’s hair. “Your hair has grown longer. I like the curls,” he said as he gave them a painless tug. 

Simon was relaxed enough that his head tilted with Coen’s tug. “You do?” Simon asked. 

Coen bent at the waist, his face closer to Simon’s. “I do. Do you doubt me?” he asked.

“No Sir,” Simon said. “I like it longer as well,” his soft smile mostly hidden by his lowered gaze. 

“Why the smile?” Coen asked as he moved his hand to trace Simon’s lips with his finger. 

”You said we are compatible. And it appears we are in more than one way,” Simon said. 

“And that makes you smile?” Coen asked softly, pleased with that thought.

Simon smiled wider. “Yes Sir.” 

“Good. Because you are beautiful when you smile,” Coen told him, caressing his face as he began to walk around him. He trailed his hand across the back of Simon’s shoulders. 

Readjusting so he was back in perfect posture, Simon settled back into his earlier seriousness as he waited for Coen’s next move. 

“Stand up,” Coen ordered. He took hold of Simon’s upper arm and guided him to where he wanted him to stand beneath a pair of leather cuffs dangling from the ceiling by a length of chain. Coen pulled them down. “Hold out your hands,” he said.

Simon did as Coen ordered, his hands trembling slightly as he held them out. 

Coen fastened the cuffs around Simon’s slender wrists then walked behind him and slowly pulled on the chain until Simon’s arms were extended upward. He secured the chain then moved to stand in front of Simon, admiring the long, length of his naked body on display for him. 

Simon adjusted his feet to stay balanced, his back arched just slightly. His eyes stayed lowered but alert. 

“Comfortable?” Coen asked as he moved to stand behind Simon, his hand dragging over his belly. 

“Yes Sir,” Simon said, his breath catching as Simon touched him. 

Coen stepped closer, pressing his clothed body against Simon’s bare skin. “You look beautiful,” he said before dropping a kiss on Simon’s shoulder. “Your skin is perfect. And I’ve seen the lovely shade of pink it can turn.”

“A preview of what is to come,” Simon murmured. 

“And I’m eager to see more,” Coen told him as he turned and walked to the large cabinet against the wall. He opened the door and selected a flogger from the items hanging there. It had wide strips of soft suede and loosely tied knots on the end. The flogger would leave Simon’s skin pink, but not cut into it. Coen returned to stand behind Simon and gently laid the strands of the flogger over his shoulder, letting the knots dangle against his chest. 

Simon turned his head just enough to see the strands clearly. He shifted his stance, inching his feet slightly further apart in preparation. 

A slow smile curved Coen’s mouth when he saw Simon’s response to the flogger. An eager sub was a beautiful thing. He took a step back and swung, the strands of the flogger landing on the perfect curve of Simon’s ass.

Rocking forward slightly, Simon raised up on his toes and then settled back down. “Would you like me to count?” he asked softly. 

“Yes. It allows me to hear your voice,” Coen replied before he landed another blow across Simon’s ass. 

“Two,” Simon counted, his voice clear and steady. 

Coen struck him again then reached around to caress Simon’s chest, tweaking his nipple. 

“Three.” Simon moaned softly at Coen’s touch. 

Moving away, Coen used the flogger for three quick strikes in a row then stood in front of Simon. He needed to see his face as he teased the other nipple and hoped he could make Simon moan again. 

Counting off the blows, Simon took a deep breath when Coen paused. He looked up when the other man moved in front of him, risking that Coen didn’t want him to keep his head down. 

Simon’s cheeks were flushed and his pupils were dilated. “Beautiful,” Coen said as he stared into his eyes. He moved in close, breathing the heady scent of excitement. Coen wrapped his hand around Simon’s half-hard cock and began to stroke him. 

Staring back at Coen Simon tried to lean forward but was caught by the chains. He rocked back into place, his muscles straining as he tried to stay still. 

Coen slipped his arm around Simon’s waist to steady him as he continued to stroke him. He whispered in Simon’s ear. “You feel so good in my hand.” 

Simon pushed up against Coen as much as he could, increasing the contact between them. 

Sliding his other hand down Simon’s back, Coen squeezed his ass cheek, the skin warm against the palm of his hand. 

Silently using his body to beg for more, Simon strained against the cuffs. 

Coen’s hand began to move faster, working Simon’s cock as he brushed his lips against his jawline. “Are you going to come for me?” he asked as he squeezed his butt again.

“Please,” Simon begged, turning his head to chase Coen’s lips. “Please let me come for you.” 

“For me,” Coen purred as he kissed Simon’s neck. 

“For you, Sir,” Simon moaned, his body arching as he tried to hold back. 

“Do it, Simon. Come for me,” Coen commanded. He lifted his head to watch Simon’s face, coveting every nuance of his expression.

Simon tipped his head up to meet the other man’s eyes, giving Coen both the reaction of his body and a window into his mind. He cried out as his seed spilled over Coen’s hand, his entire weight supported by the cuffs at his wrists. 

Coen supported Simon, lifting him up against him. “I’ve got you,” he told him while he held him close. 

Simon struggled to catch his breath, letting Coen hold him in place. “Thank you, Sir,” he murmured when he’d managed to compose himself enough to speak. 

Making sure Simon was able to stand before he let go of him, Coen moved to lower the chain and unfasten the cuffs around Simon’s wrists. He smiled as he pushed a curl away from Simon’s forehead. “You are perfect like this. I knew that you would be.”

Flexing his wrists to get the blood flowing again, Simon’s cheeks flushed even darker. “Thank you, Sir,” he repeated. 

“Thank you,” Coen whispered before he kissed Simon’s cheek. He held Simon’s wrists, examining them for any marks or bruising. “Are they sore?”

Simon shook his head. “No. Those cuffs are just right.” 

“Let me help you move over to the bed,” Coen said as he slipped his arm around Simon’s waist again. Once he had him seated on the bed, Coen got a robe from the closet and a bottle of water. “You should drink something.” He handed the water to Simon and draped the robe around him before he sat down next to him. 

Simon took the water and removed the cap to take a sip. He didn’t move to put the robe the rest of the way on just yet. “What about you?” he asked hesitantly, feeling out what Coen might want. 

“I’ll get something to drink later,” Coen replied. 

“I didn’t mean the drink,” Simon smiled, his voice stronger now. 

“What did you mean?” 

“We need to take care of you,” Simon said, holding his hand out to Coen and letting the robe slip off his shoulders. 

Coen smiled as he took Simon’s hand. “Tonight is about you,” he said softly. 

“Pleasing you is about me,” Simon pointed out. “You let me have all the fun.” 

“Did you have fun?” Coen asked.

“I did,” Simon said, though his voice betrayed more complicated feelings. 

“Talk to me,” Coen urged as he caressed Simon’s wrist. 

“It was good,” Simon promised. “Very good.” Now that it seemed the scene was over, he tugged the robe back up into place. 

“How’s the bum?” Coen asked with an affectionate smile.

“Pleasantly sore,” Simon reported. “I will definitely be thinking of you tomorrow when I’m trying to sit.” 

That thought made Coen very happy; he wanted Simon to think of him. He wanted Simon to be with him again. “I can rub some cream on it if you like?” he offered.

Simon shook his head. “No need.” He drank more of his water, using just one hand so Coen could continue to softly stroke his skin. 

“No marks where anyone can see them, but you’re right, you may be uncomfortable sitting tomorrow.” 

“Visible marks don’t bother me all that much,” Simon said, finishing off his water. “Welcome reminders of how they got there.” 

“I will remember that for next time,” Coen smiled. “If there is a next time?” he added. He shouldn’t have assumed automatically that Simon would want that with him.

Simon hesitated. “I have a lot to think about,” he said, squeezing Coen’s hand. “But I definitely want to talk about the possibility.” 

“I’m here whenever you’re ready,” replied Coen. He wanted more of this with Simon, there was no doubt in his mind.

“I’m counting on that,” Simon said, tugging Coen’s hand in close and giving it a kiss. “I need to go now, but thank you for tonight.” 

“Oh… all right. Do you need some help?” Coen offered, caught off guard by Simon’s decision to leave. 

“No, I’m good,” Simon promised, standing up and tugging the robe tight. “Luckily I don’t have far to go.” 

“If you’re sure?” Coen stood with Simon. His early anxiety returned coupled with the uncertainty about their scene. Coen was concerned that in his effort to focus on Simon instead of himself, that perhaps instead, he had left him unfulfilled. 

Simon nodded. “Just one thing I need before I leave,” he said, rounding the end of the bed to move closer to Coen. 

Coen gave him an expectant smile. “Name it,” he said.

Leaning down, Simon touched Coen’s cheek with his hand and then kissed him. 

Covering Simon’s hand with his own, Coen said, “Thank you.”

Simon shook his head. “You are the one to be thanked. I asked you for this favor.” 

“And I was more than happy to oblige,” Coen replied. 

“See you in the morning,” Simon said softly, walking backwards for a few steps. 

Coen nodded, still smiling. “Goodnight.” 

Simon turned and headed for the stairs, giving Coen one last look over his shoulder as he left. 

Coen had thought a scene with Simon would answer his questions. Instead, it has only left him with more.

/ / / / / 

Simon played with his phone, bouncing it back and forth between his hands. He’d kept his morning routine the same; coffee, gym, meetings and office, but his mind had been a million miles away. 

The night before hadn’t done much to solve his dilemma. It had solidified that what he’d been feeling was about Coen in particular, not just the attention lavished upon him. And the scene showed they had chemistry, though Simon couldn’t help but fantasize about what it might have been like if Coen had let things go further. 

He finally managed to stop his fidgeting and poke out the text message he’d been drafting in his brain for hours. 

_Ready to debrief? Drinks on the couch after dinner tonight or coffee and brunch in the morning?_

He hit send and then forced himself to open his work emails, knowing the neediest of his authors would be waiting for a response. 

_I have a dinner appointment tonight. Can I meet you for drinks on the couch around 9?_

Simon stayed disciplined and finished off his email before checking his phone. 

_It’s a date,_ Simon sent back, wincing a bit in fear that Coen might be scared off by the implication that he thought of it as more than just a conversation. 

_Looking forward to it._

Simon sighed, knowing he wasn’t going to get any further work done. He felt lucky that so much of what needed to be done could be accomplished at home, he could leave the office with a clear conscious knowing he’d catch up on things over the weekend. 

He packed away his things and went home, spending the afternoon thinking and pacing and thinking and pacing some more until night fell. He ate a light dinner and made sure there was wine and then changed into his comfortable clothes to wait for Coen to get home. 

Coen arrived home to find Simon waiting on the couch as promised.

“Hello. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting,” he said with a warm smile. 

“Not at all, you are right on time.” Simon stood up. “Go get out of your work clothes and I’ll make you a drink.” 

“Thanks. I’ll be right back,” Coen replied, already loosening his tie as he turned to go up the stairs. 

Simon poured two glasses of wine, his hand shaking a bit from the nervous anticipation. He left one by Simon’s chair and carried the other over to his spot on the couch. 

Coen returned wearing the “comfy clothes” that Simon had given him on their weekend in the country. He sat down and made himself comfortable, reaching for the wine that was waiting for him. “So debriefing… I had a momentary thought of us without our underwear,” Coen teased before he took a sip of the wine. 

The joke eased some of the tension in the room and Simon smiled. “While I’d never say no to having you pantsless,” Simon teased, “it’s probably best we stay fully clothed for now.” 

“If we must,” Coen shrugged, still smiling. “I was happy to hear from you today.”

“That’s a good start,” Simon said. “If you’d just ignored my message I would have had a heads up about how you felt about last night.” 

“I could never ignore you, Simon,” Coen said softly.

Taking another sip of his wine for bravery, Simon fessed up. “So I got the answer to my question. I’m definitely not just starved for attention and affection. It’s you.” 

Coen tilted his head as if trying to decipher Simon’s proclamation. “It’s me,” he said.

“What I was feeling. It was attraction.” Simon shook his head. “I’m not making sense. Sorry.” 

“You’re attracted to me,” Coen said quickly, his smile widening. “I think I understand what you’re saying. You’re attracted to me. Which is good, because I am definitely attracted to you.”

“And I haven’t seen your checklist, but I trust you when you say we are compatible. But that’s all just on paper. What did you feel?” Simon hoped the question wasn’t too forward, but he needed to know. 

“I felt fortunate to be scening with you because you are not only beautiful and sensual, you excite me and my desire to dominate you,” Coen answered never looking away from Simon’s face as he spoke.

“But not enough to use me?” Simon asked, the question slipping out before he had time to think about it.

“Last night was about you. Giving you what you needed, not taking what I wanted,” Coen explained. “Don’t doubt my attraction to you, Simon. I think I’ve made it evident that I want you, even before we stepped into my play room.”

Simon visibly relaxed. That had been troubling him more than he cared to admit. “Part of what I get out of it is giving my Dom what he needs. So it was hard for me to not know if I’d accomplished that,” he said by way of explanation. 

“You accomplished it,” Coen assured him. 

“Good. Do you generally not have sex as part of your scenes? I know some Doms don’t like to mix that in,” Simon asked. 

“I’m not one of those. I always include sex in my scenes.” Coen took another drink of his wine. 

Simon smiled. “Except for last night.” 

“I think what we did would count as sex,” Coen countered with a grin.

“I think that might be stretching the definition a bit,” Simon said, grinning back. “So where do we go from here?” he asked, bringing things to the crux of the matter. 

“Where would you like us to go?” Coen asked. “Do you want to scene with me again?”

Simon hesitated. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to put all his cards on the table, but he also knew that was the whole point of why they were here. “I do,” he said, shifting his eyes to his wine glass. “But I want more than that.”

Coen watched him. “Go on,” he said quietly.

Taking another drink before he continued, Simon hoped that Coen couldn’t see the subtle shake of his hand. “For a sub I can be rather… possessive. I wouldn’t do well with us sceneing casually and then you bringing home other guys to play with.” 

“So what sort of arrangement would you do well with?” asked Coen.

“That’s the struggle, right?” Simon said with a self deprecating smile. “I’ve spent the last four years in a contract. It’s all I really know. So that’s hard for me to answer.” 

“And the man you were contracted with wasn’t just your dom,” Coen pointed out. 

“What do you mean?” Simon asked, finding that thoughts of Samuel still brought up emotions he wished he could tamp down. 

“I apologize if I misunderstood, but I was under the impression you were lovers as well. Partners.” 

“Oh, yeah. I guess you could say that. Where do you draw the line though? When is your Dom also your partner? Where do those lines start to blur?” Simon got up and refilled their wine glasses. 

“For me, it’s when I continue to have a relationship with that person outside the playroom,” Coen told him. “But as you know, I don’t have a lot of experience with relationships.”

Simon was interested to hear more about Coen’s past. “Have you had that? A sub who was also a lover?”

“Yes,” Coen replied then took another sip of wine, offering no further explanation. 

Simon waited for Coen to continue and the silence stretched between them. “I think you like being a mystery,” he said finally. 

“I’m not the mysterious one,” Coen smiled. “In fact, I’ve been forthcoming from our first encounter.”

“I don’t know that I’d go that far,” Simon smiled back. “It’s hard for you not to take care of the man you are with, even if they don’t belong to you,” he said, remembering all of the times that Coen had touched him casually but with an undertone of possession even when they were still ostensibly just friends. 

“I’m a caring kind of person. Don’t you prefer a dom who is caring and attentive?” Coen asked. 

Simon nodded. “I think you know me well enough to know the answer to that.” 

“Then let’s stop with the bargaining phase and get down to business. What is that you want, Simon?” 

Simon realized that he should have known that Coen, ever the businessman, would want action and not continued discussion. “I want you. I want to try this and see if it works. But I’m scared,” he said, laying his cards on the table. 

“So you need some assurances. I can understand that. And exclusivity is one of those assurances?” Coen asked.

“I know I can’t ask that of you right now,” Simon said, trying to be practical. “But I’d ask that you not shove it in my face. I don’t want to come down to breakfast and find you’ve had someone stay over.” 

“I don’t have a problem with an exclusive arrangement. One that goes both ways, of course,” Coen told him.

Simon stared down into his wine. “Thank you. And obviously given my past, being shared with others is a hard limit.” 

“Not an issue. I can be rather possessive myself,” Coen replied with a slight smile. “Speaking of limits, I have your checklist, but would like a formal arrangement of some kind?”

Simon’s heart skipped a beat and he tried as hard as he could to keep his expression neutral. “I think a short term contract might be best for both of us. A point at which we can reevaluate and see if it is working.” 

Coen smiled and nodded. “Agreed.”

Simon couldn’t help but feel like things were going far too well. His cynical side wanted to warn him that there had to be a catch, but the part of him that ached to belong to someone again overruled the caution. “You seem very agreeable to all this,” he said finally, letting just a hint of that worry surface. 

“Why wouldn’t I be? When you’re giving me what I’ve been wanting,” Coen replied. “Did you want me to play hard to get?” he asked as he gave Simon a teasing grin. 

“No,” Simon said, shaking his head for emphasis. “I’m just not used to getting everything I want.” 

“Well get used to it. You’ll find you enjoy it,” Coen told him. “Now the contract… how shall we handle it?”

“I’m sure the club has standard ones we can start with. Just modify the time period, limits, and expectations.” He paused, looking over at Coen for the first time in several minutes. “Speaking of expectations…” 

“Yes?” Coen asked, his wine glass stopping halfway to his mouth. 

“You haven’t addressed them. What are your expectations for your boy?” Simon winced internally at using the phrase “your boy” so early in the process but it had come out with any forethought. 

“We also haven’t addressed our living arrangement. Right now we are roommates. Do you want that to remain the same?” asked Coen.

It didn’t escape Simon’s notice that Coen directed the conversation away from expectations. “You said you prefered a relationship both in and out of scene so I assumed you would want to share a bed. I’d like to keep my office on the second floor if I could.” 

“Of course,” Coen agreed. “Then my expectations are not much different from any relationship. Honesty. I hate game-playing. Respect. When you need your time, all you need do is tell me. At home I expect you to be yourself. I’m not expecting servitude.” 

Simon relaxed slightly. “I can do that. Are there things I can do for you though? Not servitude, but just ways for me to take care of you?”

“Take care of me?” Coen questioned.

“Have your coffee ready in the morning, meet you at the door with a drink when you get home from work, that type of thing,” Simon said, finding it telling that Coen had to ask about what he meant. He could already tell that life with Coen was going to be much different than he was used to. “Even being prepped and naked for you when you get home. Anything to make your day better.” 

Coen inhaled sharply. He set his wine glass aside and and got to his feet, crossing the lounge to sit on the sofa next to Simon. “All of those things sound lovely and I want you to do them, but only when _you_ want to do them for me,” Coen said softly. He looked into Simon’s eyes, lifting his hand to lay it gently against his neck. “I want you, Simon. Not the things that you can do for me.”

“As long as you know you can ask for them when you want them,” Simon said softly. “Pleasing you pleases me.” 

“And I think you know I feel the same. Seeing you in pleasure last night…” Coen caressed Simon’s neck, tilting his head back. “It was very pleasurable and I look forward to seeing it again,” he whispered before he kissed Simon.

Part of him knows that they should finish setting the rules and dealing with the paperwork before they move forward, but Simon lets the part of him that doesn’t care take over. Pressing forward into the kiss, Simon hopes Coen sees it as the acceptance that it is. 

Coen deepened the kiss then finally parted with a soft nip to Simon’s lower lip. “I’m ready to sign,” he said with a smile.

“I doubt we can get it done tonight,” Simon smiled back. “So a verbal agreement will have to suffice until tomorrow.” 

“Shall we shake on it?” Coen asked, offering Simon his hand. 

“I’d rather do something a little more intimate than that,” Simon said, nevertheless taking Coen’s hand. 

“You need to join me in my bedroom tonight,” Coen told him.

Simon nodded. “Yes, Sir,” he whispered, their faces still just inches apart. 

“I’m going to take a shower. If I’m not out before you arrive, wait for me in bed,” Coen instructed.

Nodding again, Simon wondered if Coen could hear his heart racing. To him it was positively thunderous in his ears. 

“No need for pajamas,” Coen added with a smile as he took Simon’s hand and led him toward the stairs. 

“I could have guessed that part,” Simon said, willingly following Coen up the stairs. He broke off when they reached his room. “I’ll get cleaned up while you shower and be waiting for you when you get done.” 

“Take your time. We have all night,” Coen said softly. He gave Simon a tender kiss on the cheek then turned to take the last flight of stairs. 

Simon watched him go, admiring the view as Coen ascended the stairs. Once he was out of sight he went straight for his bathroom, stripping out of his clothes as he went. He brushed his teeth and got ready, all the while staring at himself nervously in the mirror. He was glad he’d had a few glasses of wine, without that he was sure he’d be so on edge that he wouldn’t be able to relax enough to enjoy the moment. 

Satisfied that he was as ready as he could be, he climbed up to the third floor. He hadn’t ever been up to Simon’s room and he took advantage of his moments alone to look around. It was exactly as he expected, modern and sparse, without much color beyond grey and white. The shower shut off and Simon debated for a moment before deciding to lay on top of the duvet rather than get under the sheets. 

Coen emerged from his bathroom, his hair damp from the shower and a white towel wrapped around his waist. He smiled when he saw Simon lying on his bed. 

“You look perfect in my bed. I always knew you would even when I thought I might never see you here,” Coen said softly as he approached the bed. He reached out to trail his hand along the long line of smooth skin that was Simon’s beautiful body. 

Simon took advantage of Coen’s proximity to let his gaze linger on every inch of his exposed skin. He’d had nothing but stolen glances up to then but now he felt like he could soak it in. 

Coen unfastened the towel and let it drop to the floor. He watched Simon as his new lover stared openly at him. 

Simon pulled his lower lip between his teeth, finally dragging his eyes up to Coen’s face after a long look. “You look pretty perfect as well.” 

Coen climbed onto the bed beside Simon. “I love your skin,” he murmured as he began to caress Simon’s body again. “So smooth and such a beautiful paleness.” He looked at Simon’s bare, hairless body. “I’m predicting some beard burn in your future,” he warned with a smile. 

Reaching out to touch Coen’s cheek, Simon smiled. “I’ve never been with someone with facial hair. I hadn’t even thought about that.” 

 

“I hope you don’t mind the beard. I’m rather attached to it,” Coen grinned, holding his eye contact with Simon as he lowered his head to Simon’s chest, kissing his skin then teasing his nipple with the point of his tongue. 

“It’s part of the package,” Simon said. “And I like the whole package.” 

“I like your package as well,” Coen murmured against Simon’s skin as he moved lower with his kisses. He lifted his head when he reached Simon’s pelvic bone. “Raise your arms above your head. Can you grasp the headboard?” 

Simon shivered. The tone of Coen’s voice had changed and it felt like even his posture had shifted. “Yes, Sir,” he said, stretching his hands up over his head. His fingers found the metal rails and he wrapped his hands around them. 

“I could cuff you, but I know you’ll be a good boy and hold on for me, won’t you?” Coen said as he shifted, spreading Simon’s legs to move between them. 

“Yes, Sir,” Simon said, bending his knees and spreading his thighs. “I can hold on.” 

Coen kissed Simon’s knee then moved his way down his in inner thigh. He gently scraped his teeth over Simon’s protruding pelvic bone. It wasn’t sharp enough to make a mark, just hard enough for Simon to feel it. 

Simon lifted his head just enough to catch Coen’s eye. “I bruise really easily. Don’t let it stop you, just letting you know so you don’t get startled when I turn eight shades of purple.” 

“Is that something you want? To wear my mark?” asked Coen. 

“I wouldn’t say no to it,” Simon said softly. “Is that on the table?” He gripped the bed tightly, hoping it would help ground him while everything else seemed to be rushing at him so fast. 

“Definitely.” Coen kissed skin then scraped the skin with his teeth again. “Want you to see the mark I gave you. And remember how much you please me by taking it.” 

Simon moaned. “Thank you,” he gasped as Coen worried his skin with his teeth. 

Coen cupped Simon’s balls as he nuzzled his face in his groin. He breathed in Simon’s scent and brushed his lips along his boy’s hardening cock. 

Smiling when Coen’s beard tickled his skin, Simon found himself tilting his hips to shamelessly beg for more. He was surprised at how uninhibited he felt, all the nervousness earlier was for nothing.   
Coen began to stroke Simon as he looked up at him. “Keep those hands on the headboard, but I don’t want you to hold back,” he told him before lowering his head again and swallowing Simon’s cock. 

Simon let out a strangled cry as the wet heat of Coen’s mouth enveloped his length. His hands stayed rock solid on the headboard even as the rest of his body squirmed under the pleasurable assault. 

Massaging Simon’s sack as he sucked him, Coen’s fingers slid to the sensitive area behind where he rubbed and pressed as he took Simon’s cock deeper.

Simon instinctively spread his legs wider, hoping he was reading Coen’s cues. It had been so long since he’d been with someone new, he was now realizing how much he’d taken for granted in being able to read his partner’s body language so well. But he looked forward to learning all of that about Coen. 

Coen continued to suck Simon’s cock as he caressed him, rubbing his finger over his hole to feel the flutter of Simon’s clenching muscle. 

Simon pushed down against Coen’s finger, a silent act of encouragement and consent. He could feel the sweat beading up on his skin, the flush of pleasure all consuming. 

Pulling off of Simon’s cock, Coen patted his hip. “Turn over. Hands and knees,” he ordered as he reached for the lube and a condom on the side table. 

Simon shifted his grip as he rolled, his hands never fully leaving the headboard. He flexed his arms and pulled his knees up under his body, spreading the as far as he could once he was balanced. 

Coen gave Simon’s butt a light smack after he rolled on a condom. “Do you know how good you look like this? On your knees, ready to take my cock.” 

Simon was glad that his face was pressed against the bed, it hid the embarrassed flush of his cheeks. He arched his back just enough to spread even wider for Coen, a thrill of arousal racing down his spine. 

Pressing his lubed fingers into Simon, Coen prepared him. He used his fingers to fuck him slowly until Simon was ready.

Rocking back and forth, Simon greedily took all Coen would give him, shamelessly showing he wanted more. 

Coen rolled on a condom and slicked with the lube in his hand. He steadied Simon with a hand on his hip as his other hand guided his cock. Coen pushed inside slowly, until he was fully inside Simon. 

Simon moaned, not fighting Coen’s hand where it held him down. He’d missed the simple pleasure of being filled and he hoped Coen was enjoying it as much as he was. 

“You feel so good. So hot and tight,” Coen murmured as he began to move inside Simon.

Contracting his muscles to squeeze Coen even tighter, Simon smiled into the sheets when he was rewarded with a gasp of pleasure. 

Coen ran his hand up Simon’s back to hold his shoulder as his thrusts became more powerful. 

Simon held tightly to the headboard despite the fact that his cock ached for attention. He forced his focus to taking Coen’s thrusts as openly as he could, just to keep his mind off his own need. 

Using his legs, Coen spread Simon’s legs wider. He slid his arm around his waist to steady him. “Let go of the headboard,” Coen ordered.

Simon waited just a moment, long enough for his brain to catch up to the fact that Coen had a strong hold on him. Trusting that he wouldn’t fall, he let go. 

Coen pulled him up and back against his chest, spearing him onto his cock. He held Simon with an arm around his waist and a hand around his throat as he continued to fuck him. 

His entire body trembling with the wave of arousal that threatened to drown him, Simon reached for his cock. He felt exposed, the bed no longer hiding his sounds or expression, everything was there for Coen to see. 

“Not yet,” Coen rasped in warning next to Simon’s ear. He held Simon tighter, slowing his deep thrusts. 

Simon pulled his hand away with a frustrated whine. He felt lightheaded, the pleasure and Coen’s hand at his throat making everything that more intense. 

Pulling out of Simon, Coen held him around his waist as he lowered him to the bed. He kept Simon on his side and spooned him from behind. Coen gripped Simon’s thigh, holding his leg as he slid back inside him. 

In this position Simon could turn his head just a bit and see Coen’s face. “Please,” he begged, sliding his own hand in next to Coen’s to hold his leg up. 

“Shhhh. I’m going to take care of you,” Coen replied. “I will always take care of you,” he said as he finally took hold of Simon’s cock. 

 

Biting back a strangled moan, Simon let his eyes fall closed as he drank in the pleasure from the dual assault of Coen’s hand and cock. 

“Are you going to come for me?” Coen asked, his voice breathless against Simon’s neck. 

“Yes,” Simon cried out, his fingers digging into his skin as he held on. “Please let me come for you.” 

“Do it. Come for me,” Coen growled as he pushed deep into Simon and stayed there as his hand worked his cock.

Simon let go, his body shaking violently as his climax crashed through him. 

Coen held him tight, still stroking him until Simon whimpered from the overstimulation. “Beautiful,” he whispered before he kissed Simon’s cheek. “I knew you would be.” 

Simon was too wrung out to be embarrassed by the praise, the hazy fog of pleasure still muffling his senses. Tiny aftershocks of pleasure continue to rattle through his muscles, causing him to contract tightly around Simon’s cock. 

Coen moaned and rolled his hips as he moved inside Simon again. After a few more thrusts, he pulled out and took off his condom. Coen jacked himself off, his cum spattered over Simon’s skin. 

Simon groaned softly as Coen’s seed dripped down over his body. If it had been possible for him to get hard again so fast he would have, the arousal still so intense between them. 

Pulling Simon toward him, Coen kissed him slow and deep. He rubbed Simon’s shoulder gently as he held him close. “You were amazing,” Coen whispered.

“Likewise,” Simon murmured into the kiss, rolling over to slide into Coen’s arms. It had been better than he hoped for, and he looked forward to getting to do it again and again.


	8. Chapter 8

When Simon went into the bathroom to shower, Coen went downstairs to the kitchen to make the coffee. He was in an excellent mood, smiling and whistling as he waited for the coffee to brew. Last night had been perfect and Coen was a happy man.

He had hoped that he and Simon would be a good match, but there was always the possibility that they may not have been. Any doubts or concerns about their compatibility were erased last night. Simon was just as Coen had expected. Sensual, responsive, obedient. He was everything Coen wanted in a sub. 

Coen was pouring the first cup of coffee when Simon came into the kitchen. “Perfect timing,” he said with a smile and handed Simon the cup of coffee.

“Mmm, thank you,” Simon said, taking the cup. “I borrowed your shampoo, I hope that’s okay. All of my stuff is still in my room.” 

“That’s fine. What’s mine is yours,” Coen replied easily. He was ready to share with Simon. 

Simon took his first sip of coffee and sighed happily. “Tastes good. Just what I needed.” 

Coen poured a cup of coffee for himself then moved to stand close to Simon. He breathed in deeply, inhaling the fresh scent of his shampoo in Simon’s damp hair and the warmth of the coffee in their cups. “Very nice,” Coen murmured. 

“Busy day today?” Simon asked, leaning slightly toward Coen. 

“No, mostly office work,” Coen replied before he took a sip of his coffee, his free arm instinctively wrapping around Simon’s waist. He rubbed his hand against the silky fabric of Simon’s robe. “This feels nice,” Coen said. 

Simon smiled. “Do you want to see some of your handiwork from last night?” 

Coen’s eyes darkened with interest. “Show me,” he said.

Setting his coffee cup on the table, Simon stood an arm’s length away from Coen and undid the knot on his robe. He let the fabric fall open, watching Coen’s face. 

Simon’s nude body was a lovely sight made even more so by the bruises shadowing his pale skin. Coen reached out to touch the mark he’d left on Simon’s hip. He moaned softly when he felt the warm skin beneath his fingertips. Simon had his mark; he was wearing it on his skin. 

“I told you I bruised easily,” Simon said softly. He pushed up his left sleeve and turned the inside of his wrist up. “There’s still traces of our first scene.” 

Coen set his coffee cup aside and took hold of Simon’s arm with both hands. He gently raised Simon’s wrist to his lips where he kissed the fading bruise. “I like seeing my mark on you.” Coen looked into Simon’s eyes as he whispered the confession.

Simon stepped closer. “What’s mine is yours,” he said, calling back to Coen’s earlier comment. 

Winding his arm around Simon’s waist, Coen pulled him against his body and claimed his mouth for a hungry kiss. The robe slipped off Simon’s shoulders and fell to the floor. “I want you,” Coen told him between kisses. 

Murmuring his consent into the kiss, Simon wound his arms around Coen’s neck to steady himself. 

Coen lifted Simon up against him and carried him over to the table as they continued to kiss. His mind was filled with Simon - the pale skin that wore his bruises, his clean scent now mixed with arousal and the sounds they made as they rushed to give one another pleasure. Coen set Simon on the edge of the table and nudged his legs apart to stand between them as they resumed their kisses. He kissed his way down Simon’s lovely neck and across shoulder where he gently raked his teeth, not hard enough to leave a bruise just to tease him. 

Simon hooked his heels behind Coen’s thighs, keeping their bodies pressed tightly together. He moaned softly when Coen’s teeth scraped his skin, encouraging him with a squeeze of his thighs. 

Tangling his fingers in the hair at the nape of Simon’s neck, Coen tugged his head back as he nuzzled his face against Simon’s neck. He knew the boy would have beard-burn there, but it was just another way to claim him in Coen’s mind. 

“Are you going to be mine?” Coen asked.

“If you’ll have me,” Simon said softly, a slight hitch in his words. 

Coen leaned back so he could look Simon in the eyes again. “I told you that I want you and I mean it. I want you to be mine.” 

Simon studied Coen’s face for a long moment. “I want to be yours,” he said, reaching out to touch Coen’s cheek. 

“Then it’s settled,” Coen said. He turned his face to kiss the palm of Simon’s hand. “You’re mine now. And I am yours.” 

“Then claim me,” Simon said, sliding his hand around to the back of Coen’s neck. He tipped his head forward so their foreheads were touching. “Show me.” 

Coen pulled Simon into another kiss, ravaging his mouth until they were both breathless. He mouthed more kisses and soft nips down Simon’s chest and belly as he pushed him to lie back on the table. Coen dropped more kisses on Simon’s legs as he stayed between them, bending his knees until Simon’s heels were on the edge of the table. He took a step back and peeled off his tee shirt, never taking his eyes off Simon who was laid out on the table before him. “You look shamelessly beautiful,” Coen told him as he pulled up a chair to sit in front of Simon’s spread legs. 

Simon stretched his arms up over his head, letting his hands drape down over the far edge of the table. He lifted his head long enough to see what Coen was doing, and then laid back flat on the table. 

Coen kissed his way down Simon’s inner thigh then down the length of Simon’s cock. Using one hand to begin stroking Simon’s cock, Coen used the other to rub his thumb along the sensitive area behind his balls. He circled Simon’s entrance with the pad of his thumb as he worked his cock. 

Whimpering quietly, Simon dug his heels into the table in an effort to stay still. 

“Does that feel good?” Coen asked as he worked a finger inside Simon as he fisted his cock. 

“Yes,” Simon said, the word huffed out in a rush of air, need evident in the sound. 

“Hold your legs, behind your knees,” Coen ordered. When Simon complied, he bent his head and licked at his hole, using his tongue to tease him. 

Startled, Simon almost lost his grip on his knees, but his fingers tightened in place. 

“All of you belongs to me now,” Coen told him before he returned to rimming his new boy. Simon was who he wanted and he needed to show him that he wanted every part of him and he wanted to share everything with him. 

Simon moaned, lifting his head to strain and see Coen. His legs trembled slightly and he shifted his hands to get a better grip. `

Coen felt the tremors in Simon’s muscles as he strained to keep his position. “You can rest your feet on the table now,” he told Simon as he stood. He stripped out of his pajama pants and fisted his own cock as he moved between his boy’s legs again. Coen rubbed his cock against Simon’s, wrapping his hands around them and stroking them together. 

Simon did as he was told, staring up at Coen’s face now that he could see him. He returned his hands to their earlier position, his body laid out across the table for Coen’s use. 

Coen wanted to be inside Simon, filling his boy with his cock, but he didn’t keep condoms in the kitchen. He had to settle for getting them both off this way, but he knew they were going to have many opportunities in their future. 

“Feels good,” Simon said, his eyes never leaving Coen’s face. “I want to come for you.” 

“Do it. Let me see you come for me,” Coen commanded. 

Simon let his guard down, his body relaxing just for a moment before the uncontrollable wave of pleasure caught him. His body bowed as he came, coating their cocks and Coen’s hand with his release. 

“Perfect,” Coen crooned softly before he released Simon’s cock. He fisted his own cock until he came, marking Simon’s belly with his own release. 

Simon lazily reached down and dragged his finger through the liquid on his skin and then brought it to his lips. 

Coen smiled, sated and madly proud of his new lover. 

Reaching out to catch Coen’s hand, Simon pulled himself up into a sitting position. “You’re going to be late to work,” he said softly before leaning forward to kiss him. 

“One of the perks of being your own boss,” Coen replied. “I don’t have any appointments so it will be fine. But thank you for being concerned,” he added. Simon had a good head on his shoulders. It was easy for Coen to lose himself for a morning because he knew Simon wouldn’t let him take it too far. 

Simon kissed him again. “I think I’ll have to skip the gym this morning. Take a second shower instead.” 

“You might want to wait on that,” Coen grinned. He had plans for how the rest of the morning should proceed and they all involved him with Simon in bed. 

Simon tilted his head and gave Coen a questioning look. “Wait on it?”

“Yes. Because we aren’t quite done.” Coen pulled him close and gave Simon’s butt a firm squeeze. 

 

“Oh,” Simon said, an understanding smile crossing his face. “It _is_ good to be your own boss.” 

“Let’s go back upstairs and I will show you just how good,” Coen smiled. 

/ / / / /

Simon let himself into the house and hung his rain soaked jacket up by the door. There’d been an errand he needed to run and he hadn’t let the rain deter him. He left his shoes by the door as well but carried his bag with him as he went looking for Coen. 

‘You busy?” he asked when he found Coen on the couch, thumbing through something on his phone. 

“No,” Coen replied with a welcoming smile. “What’s up?”

“I thought maybe we should make things official,” he said pulling some papers out of his bag. “I stopped by the club and picked up one of their boilerplate contracts, I thought we could use it as a starting point.” Even though Coen had seemed agreeable up to this point, Simon’s heart still tripped a little as he asked the question. 

Coen reached out and took the papers from Simon’s hand. He looked them over for a moment then looked at Simon again. “These are great. We won’t have to start from scratch,” he smiled and nodded. “When would you like to finalize it?” 

“How’s now?” Simon asked, hoping he didn’t sound too impatient. “If you have the time…” he added, realizing he might be pushing Coen too hard. 

“Now is good,” Coen agreed. “Want to move to the table so we can write?” he suggested.

Simon nodded. “Kitchen?” he suggested. 

Coen stood up, catching Simon’s hand as they began to walk toward the kitchen. He stopped and slipped his arm around Simon’s waist. “I have to say something first,” he said quietly. 

Simon stopped in his tracks, letting Coen pull him in tightly “What’s that?” he asked, resting his hand on Coen’s chest. 

“I want you to know that I want you. With or without a contract.”

Exhaling the breath he didn’t even realize he was holding, Simon tipped his head forward to rest on Coen’s shoulder. “Thank you for that,” he whispered. 

“I understand why you want one and I am fine with it, but I just needed you to know that,” Coen said.

Simon wasn’t sure that Coen was being entirely truthful, but the sentiment was heartfelt. He still felt deep down that Simon was just humoring him, finding the idea of needing a contract to be silly. “I appreciate that.” 

Coen kept his arm around Simon as they moved to the table in the kitchen. He laid the papers on the table and looked at Simon. “Do you have a pen?” 

Simon dug in his bag and produced a pen. He scooted his chair around to Simon’s side of the table so they could sit side by side to read through the contract.

“What period of time do you want?” Coen asked when he reached the section about the term of the agreement. 

Simon looked over at Coen but Coen was looking down at the paper. “Three months to start?” he offered as an opening. “Enough time for us to really settle in, but not so long that if one of us is unhappy about something we’d be miserable before there was an opportunity to revisit it.” 

“All right,” Coen said with a slight nod. He looked at Simon. “And we will be exclusive to one another,” Coen added.

“Is that how you want it in here? At minimum I need it to say that I won’t be required to scene with anyone but you, but it doesn’t have to go further than that.” It was the one and only point Simon knew he wouldn’t negotiate, but he also knew that Coen wasn’t going to push it. 

“Yes, no one else in scene, but I also want exclusivity as lovers,” Coen answered. 

“Okay then,” Simon said, taking the pen and altering that section of the contract. He was secretly pleased that Coen was willing to put that in the contract. He initialed the change and then handed the pen over to Coen. 

Coen initialed the change then continued to read. He stopped again and looked at Simon. “This is all rather standard for a contract between a dominant and submissive, but am I wrong in thinking that our relationship has already blurred that line a bit? We live together. I’m already thinking of you as my lover who lives with me.”

Simon bit his lip. He’d worried about Coen’s reaction, but he hadn’t thought it would play out like this. “Yes, it’s blurry,” he agreed. “But I think that’s why we need it. It would be really easy to just make assumptions about how the other person wants to be treated in the heat of the passion we are feeling right now.” 

“I’m not disagreeing with having the contract, don’t misunderstand. I’m fine with signing it and including whatever we need to include so that we are both comfortable with our agreement. But do you want to be just my sub who lives with me? In which case, this contract is sufficient. Do you want time off? Days away from here and me? Or do you want to be my sub and my lover and share my life? Share things a contract might not cover.”

“The second,” Simon said without a moment’s hesitation. “If you are offering that,” he added, even though he knew it is what Coen wanted. 

“I’m offering that,” Coen said firmly. “I just want to be sure that if I call you and ask you to pack a bag for a weekend trip that I won’t be breaking a rule,” he smiled.

Simon smiled. “You can do that any time.” He started to cross out the entire section covering time demands but then he hesitated. “Unless you want scheduled time away from me,” he said hesitantly. 

“I don’t. But if you need time to yourself, the house is pretty big and I won’t hold it against you if you want to sleep alone in your own bed as long as you know you are always welcome in mine.”

Crossing out the entire section and adding his initials, Simon smiled as he handed over the pen. “I like your bed better than mine.” 

Coen took the pen with a smile and added his initials. 

“Safewords,” Simon said, looking at the next section. “Do you want to stick with the stoplight system or go with a single safeword.” They hadn’t scened together enough for Simon to really know Coen’s preferences yet, but their other interactions gave him enough of an idea to know he’d be okay either way. 

“I prefer the stoplight system,” Coen replied. “And when we begin to scene more, I do like to ask for your color to check in on how you are feeling. At least until we are more familiar with one another.”

Simon pointed to the paper, letting Coen write that in and then he added his initials. “My safeword is hang gliding, just in case it ever comes up.” 

“Hang gliding. Got it,” Coen said. “Do you hang glide?” he asked with a smile.

“No,” Simon said smiling as he shook his head. “The first time I got in over my head in a scene it felt like the bottom has just dropped out on me. LIke I’d just fallen over the edge of a cliff. So for some reason that is the association I made. But the stoplight system will keep me from ever getting to that point.” 

“I want you to tell me more about that, being in over your head. Not now, but I do want to know about that if you’ll share it with me some time,” Coen said softly. 

“I will,” Simon promised, leaning over to nudge against Coen’s shoulder. “Have you ever had a scene go bad?”

“I’ve had scenes where we weren’t very compatible and it didn’t really do much for us, but nothing too dramatic. I have drawn blood with a whip when it wasn’t my intention. I think I was more perturbed by it than the sub was,” Coen shrugged.

Simon found that last part very telling about the kind of man and Dom Coen was. “You are good to your subs,” he said, a statement not a question. 

“I try to be. I want to be,” Coen said. 

“You succeed in everything you do,” Simon said, leaning over and kissing Coen’s cheek before turning his attention back to the paper. “Condoms,” he said, reading the next section. He didn’t say anything, wanting to hear Coen’s opinion first. 

“I’m fine with condoms. But I have recent test results if you don’t want them,” Coen told him. “Since we have said we will be exclusive, it wouldn’t be an issue for me.”

Simon was pleasantly surprised by Coen’s answer. “I prefer to go without. I have my tests as well, and Samuel’s tests are on file at the club as well if you want those.” 

“Good. I won’t have to stash condoms in the kitchen for next time then,” Coen grinned.

“Exactly, much less hassle,” Simon laughed, adding it to the contract.

“Let me ask you this,” Coen said carefully. “Are there some things that you want strictly in scene? For instance, would you be opposed if I wanted to restrain you in bed or spank you in the lounge?”

Simon smiled. “No, I’m not opposed to that. I prefer that you check with me first if you want to do something in public, but when we are home alone anywhere is fair game.” 

“Good,” Coen smiled. “I’ve reviewed your list and I don’t see any issues with our compatability. Did you have any questions about my list?”

“No,” Simon said, skipping down through the relevant parts of the contract. “Is there anything else you want to put in here? Things you do or don’t want me to do?”

Coen lifted his hand to caress Simon’s neck. “Would you like a collar?” 

Simon felt the heat as blood rushed into his cheeks. “I wouldn’t ask for that from you. Not this soon.” 

“I understand. Wearing a collar is a symbol of deep commitment for you. Not just an exhibit of being in a relationship.”

Nodding, Simon reached up and covered Coen’s hand with his own. “Thank you for understanding.” 

Coen looked back at the contract. “I think we’ve covered everything,” he said as he scanned the document one more time.

Simon took the papers and reviewed them as well. “Last chance,” he said, hovering a pen over the signature line. “Speak now or hold your peace for three months.” 

“Sign it,” Coen told him with a smile. 

Simon took Coen’s advice and then handed over the pen. “Have you had a boy under contract before?” he asked, hoping to learn more about Coen’s past. 

“No. I did have a boy who lived with me for a few months, but we didn’t have a contract,” Coen replied. He signed the paper and handed it back to Simon. 

“By your choice or his?” Simon laid the paper on the table. He’d worry about filing it away later. 

“Neither really. It just didn’t come up,” answered Coen. “And Samuel was your only relationship like that, right?”

“Yes. My only serious relationship at all really. He snatched me right up when I was new on the scene.” Simon settled back into his chair, his fingers playing with the edge of the table. “I guess I don’t really know how to function without one,” he confessed. 

“I want you to be your own person, Simon. Have your own interests. Take time for yourself. We will have time together, but I think you have some exploring to do,” Coen told him.

“Sending me away already?” Simon teased, keeping his tone lighthearted. 

Coen reached over and took Simon by the arm to pull him close. “Not at all. Just letting you know that you aren’t completely confined.”

Simon slid out of his chair and stood at Coen’s side, asking silent permission to sit in his lap.

Leaning back in his chair, Coen took Simon’s hand and pulled him down. 

“Sometimes confinement is good,” Simon said softly as he settled in. “I want to be here for you when you need me.” 

“I want time with you, too,” Coen agreed, his hand rubbing slowly up and down Simon’s back. 

Simon sighed with pleasure at Coen’s touch. “I know you’ll need your space though. You aren’t used to having someone around all the time.” 

“I am becoming more and more accustomed to having you here,” Coen said with a smile. “It has been very nice to have you to come home to these past weeks.”

“Even before you owned me?” Simon asked, curious as to just how inevitable Coen had thought this to be. 

“Yes. I missed seeing you those nights when I came home too late and you were already in your room. Or the mornings when you were in a hurry to get to work and didn’t have time for coffee.”

Simon kissed Coen’s shoulder. “I plan to cut back on the number of new authors I take on. Back to my old level. That should make my schedule more flexible again.” 

“Good. I think we will both be happier with that.” Coen took hold of Simon’s chin to kiss him on his lips. 

Simon smiled into the kiss. “I guess I should have asked if you were going to charge me rent to live here before I promised that,” he murmured. 

“No rent. Same arrangement as before. Are you okay with being a kept boy?” Coen teased as he tickled Simon’s side. 

Simon laughed and squirmed. “Yes. Because it means I have time to devote to taking care of you.” 

“I do like that sound of that,” Coen crooned, his hands going still. 

Feeling the shift in Coen’s body language, Simon bent his head and nuzzled against the other man’s neck. “Do you want me to take care of you right now?” he asked softly. 

“Yes,” Coen replied, his tone quiet and breathy in response to his lover. 

Simon carefully extricated himself from Coen’s lap, sliding down to kneel between Coen’s legs. He ran his hands up and down Coen’s thighs as worked himself into the right position. Reaching for the fly of Coen’s trousers, he took a moment just to look up at the other man’s face. 

Coen watched Simon, reaching out to caress his cheek when he paused to look at him. “Beautiful,” he murmured. 

Simon blushed and returned to his work, tugging open the button and zip until he could work his hand under the fabric. He was rewarded with the solid heat of Coen’s cock, already firming up in his hand. 

Shifting in his seat, Coen spread his legs as Simon touched him, his watchful gaze never leaving his boy’s face.

Sitting forward on his knees, Simon leaned in and swiped his tongue across the head of Coen’s cock, his senses instantly filled with the smell and taste of his lover. He moaned with pleasure and then took Coen’s length between his lips, licking and sucking every inch. 

Coen groaned in reaction, sinking lower in his seat. He rested his hand on Simon’s head as he sucked him. 

Simon made a soft noise of encouragement when Coen touched his head. He was still learning what Coen liked, he wanted to inventory it all so he’d have it at his fingertips any time he needed it. 

Threading his fingers into Simon’s hair, Coen held his head as it moved up and down over his cock. His breathing had changed to soft pants and sharp inhalations of pleasure. 

Letting Coen control the pace, Simon’s entire focus narrowed to the way Coen’s cock felt as he fucked his mouth and throat. He let him go deep, trusting Coen not to push too far. 

“I’m going to come,” Coen moaned in warning. 

Simon sat back on his heels, letting his hand take over for his mouth. He closed his eyes and turned his face up, anticipating the moment when Coen would mark him. 

Coen watched as his release covered Simon’s eager expression. Breathless and smiling, he reached out to smear a bit of it with his thumb then he rubbed his thumb over Simon’s lower lip. “That was quite enjoyable,” Coen said with a satisfied smile.

Carefully opening his eyes, Simon drank in the look on Coen’s face and the praise he so freely gave. ‘Good,” he managed to get out, his voice hoarse. 

“Come here,” Coen said as he pulled Simon up and onto his lap again. “Does sucking me get you hard?” he asked as his hand cupped his boy’s groin. 

“Yes, Sir,” Simon whispered, the dual sensation of being utterly used with Coen’s come on his face joining with the comfort and pleasure of being held and touched. It overwhelmed him a bit but he knew Coen would take care of him. 

Coen reached for Simon’s zipper. “Let me see it,” he whispered sweetly next to Simon’s ear. 

Simon leaned back, helping Coen get his pants open and pushed down. He watched Coen’s face, taking in every nuance of how Coen looked at him. 

Taking hold of Simon’s cock, Coen began to stroke him. He watched as his boy’s length grew harder in his hand and he heard the soft sounds that Simon was trying to restrain. “Don’t hold back, let me hear you,” Coen told him, looking up at Simon’s face. 

Letting his guard down, Simon let everything he was feeling show in his voice and his body language. The rush of knowing he belonged to Coen now had him on edge before they’d even begun, and now his body rushed pell mell toward the end he was desperately trying to hold off. 

“You feel so good in my hand,” Coen crooned as he fisted Simon’s cock faster. “Want to see you come. Let me see it,” he told Simon as he continued to watch his face.

Simon’s breath caught at the praise, his body obeying Coen’s commands instinctively. He gasped as his body shook as he rushed toward the point of no return. Reaching for Coen’s shoulder, he held on tight as his body contracted and spilled over. 

Coen held Simon close, whispering soft encouragement and easing him down after his orgasm. “You look beautiful when you’re turned on, but you look perfect like this.” 

“You make me this way,” Simon murmured, spent from the emotional toll. All the anxiety he’d felt over what might happen between them had melted away. It seemed silly that a piece of paper could fix that gnawing doubt, but it had and Simon relished the way it felt to be truly uninhibited again. 

“We are going to be good for one another,” Coen told him before he pulled him close and kissed him. 

Simon relaxed into the kiss, not caring that they were making a mess of each other’s clothes. “Yeah?” he murmured when they parted to take a breath. “Is that a promise?”

“Yes. Yes it is,” Coen replied.


	9. Chapter 9

It was Saturday afternoon and Coen was still in bed. He had his laptop open and he was scrolling through some property listings for a client, making note of any that had potential. He looked up from his computer when Simon walked into the room. 

Simon held up the paper in his hand. “I was just doing some end of the month bookkeeping. Guess what happened yesterday that I didn’t even notice.” 

“What?” Coen asked with a smile as he set his laptop aside. 

“Money came in from my investment property,” Simon smiled. “We’d been in the process of getting it rented, but it slipped my mind that I’d get a payment on the last day of the month.” 

“So it’s official then. You are an income earning investor.” Coen grinned; he was genuinely happy for Simon. His new lover had taken his new interest in real estate investments very seriously and Coen was glad to see it begin to pay off for him. 

“I guess this makes it officially real,” Simon said, staring down at the paper in his hand. “I mean seeing all the initial investment disappear from my account was scary real, but this is happy real.” 

“So what are you going to do with it?” asked Coen.

Simon took a seat on the foot of the bed. “Probably just try and rebuild my nest egg initially.” 

“That’s the smartest thing to do,” Coen encouraged. “Save enough of those…” He pointed to the check in Simon’s hand. “And you can buy more property.”

“Baby steps,” Simon laughed. “You have a whole company to manage your portfolio. I just have me.” 

“It’s like Monopoly, once you start, it’s hard to stop,” Coen joked. 

“Until you land on that “Go To Jail, Go Directly to Jail” thing,” Simon pointed out. “That would make you want to stop.” 

“I promise to bail you out,” Coen offered. “Unless you’re into some jail roleplaying?” he asked with another grin.

Simon shook his head. “No, not really. But I’m glad you’d come to my rescue.” 

“Of course I would come to your rescue. I couldn’t leave you in jail. I’d miss you too much,” Coen said.

Leaving his papers at the foot of the bed, Simon crawled up and laid down beside Coen. “Then I will do my best to stay out of jail,” he teased. 

“Rethink that roleplaying. I have a nice pair of handcuffs we could use…” Coen grinned as he snuggled up to Simon.

“We don’t need roleplaying for that,” Simon laughed. 

“Would you like me to cuff you?” Coen asked as he nuzzled against Simon’s neck. His hands slipped under the shirt that Simon was wearing, caressing his warm skin. 

Simon murmured happily. “Would you like to cuff me?” he bantered back. 

“Yes,” Coen replied. “I want to cuff you to the bed. Would you like that?” he countered as he kissed Simon’s neck. 

“I think I’d like pretty much anything you wanted to do to me,” Simon said softly, tipping his head to the side and baring more of his neck. 

Coen moaned against the slender column of Simon’s throat. “Careful. Those are enticing words,” he warned as he pulled Simon’s body against his, his leg sliding between Simon’s. 

“True words,” Simon promised, parting his legs as Coen pressed closer. 

“You are wearing too many clothes,” Coen told him as he rubbed his thigh against the denim of Simon’s jeans. “You should undress.”

“Yes,Sir,” Simon said quietly, waiting for Coen to release him. He sat up and worked open the buttons on his shirt, shedding that first and laying it aside. 

Coen watched as Simon undressed. His eyes were dark with desire and a pleased smile curved his lips. He pulled his own tee shirt off over his head and tossed it on the floor as he continued to look at Simon. 

Simon stood up to shed the rest of his clothes, turning to let Coen see him as he moved. “Better?” he asked, once he was wearing nothing but his skin. 

“Much,” Coen replied as he stood up next to Simon. He used one hand at the back of Simon’s neck to pull him in for a kiss and his other hand gave his bare bottom a firm squeeze. Coen liked kissing Simon. His boy’s lips were made for kisses. And his ass was made for squeezing.

Wrapping his arms around Coen’s neck, Simon pushed up on his toes to meet the kiss. 

“Lie down on the bed. On your back, arms over your head,” Coen whispered to him between another kiss. 

“Yes, Sir,” Simon murmured, staying put until Coen was done kissing him. When they parted he laid back on the bed, shifting until his outstretched arms were the right distance from the headboard. 

Coen walked over to his dresser and opened one of the drawers. He pulled out a pair of fur-lined handcuffs and some other supplies before he returned to the bed where Simon was laid out so beautifully. 

“You look beautiful,” Coen told him. He always thought Simon was beautiful and never hesitated to tell him. He leaned over and fastened the cuffs around Simon’s wrists then attached them to the bed frame with a short length of chain. 

Simon rolled his wrists, assessing the tightness of the cuffs and his range of movement. He turned his attention back to Coen, his body already starting to quiet down into submission. 

“I thought about blindfolding you. To heighten your sensitivity. But selfishly, I want to see your eyes,” Coen said as he ran his hand over Simon’s body with a barely-there caress. 

“I like being able to see you,” Simon confessed. 

“Why?” asked Coen.

“So I know it’s you,” he said, turning away a bit embarrassed. “I never want to forget that it’s you.” 

Coen had asked him why matter-of-factly and he was stunned with Simon’s answer. The fact that Simon might be thinking of someone else, his former dom, gave Coen pause. Their attraction and the way they had been with one another these past few days had almost made him forget the past, the past that may not be as easy for Simon to put behind him. 

He reached for Simon, turning his face back toward him. “I won’t let you forget,” Coen said softly. 

Simon pushed up, straining as far as he could against the cuffs and gave Coen a kiss. “I’m holding you to that.” 

“You’re mine,” Coen said before claiming Simon’s mouth. “And I am yours,” he murmured when he released him again. 

“Yes Sir,” Simon whispered, settling back down against the mattress. 

“I’m going to tease you,” Coen warned. “Should I give you something you like before I do?” 

Simon paused, squeezing his hands into fists. “Yes,” he answered finally, some uncertainty evident in his voice. 

“You like to be filled, don’t you?” Coen asked as he gently palmed Simon’s cock as they talked. 

“Yes,” Simon said immediately, blushing at how eager he sounded. 

Coen picked up an item from his pile of goodies at the foot of the bed and showed it to Simon, a butt plug. “I think this will do nicely,” he said as he reached for the lube. 

Simon agreed, instinctively bending his knees and planting his feet on the bed. 

“Can’t let my boy be too empty,” Coen smiled as he squeezed some lube onto his fingers and coated the plug. He rubbed his slick fingers over Simon’s hole, pushing in one then two fingers. Coen moved them in and out, preparing Simon for the butt plug. When he thought he was ready, Coen pressed it against his opening and slowly pushed it past the clenching muscle.

Simon moaned as the plug slid home. Wiggling his hips, he found it hard to stay still as the plug pressed deep inside. 

“How does it feel?” Coen asked as he tapped his finger lightly against the plug. 

“Good,” Simon said, panting slightly as his body adjusted. 

“I couldn’t leave my boy feeling empty while I teased him,” Coen said as he caressed Simon’s chest then tweaking and rubbing his nipples. 

“No,” Simon agreed. He watched Coen’s hands as they moved across his body but his eyes flicked up to Coen’s face when he moaned with pleasure.

Coen turned to his supplies again, this time retrieving a vibrator. He kept it out of Simon’s sight line, still watching his lover’s face as he flicked the switch. 

Simon gasped in surprise, squirming against the bed. His surprise quickly turned to pleasure when he stared up at Coen to be sure the other man could see exactly how he felt. 

Coen slid the vibrator across Simon’s skin, retracing the same paths his fingers had traveled earlier. He used it to tease his boy’s nipples and to trace the beautiful lines of his body. 

Pulling against his cuffs, Simon pushed up against the contact every time Coen started to move it away. 

“Spread your legs,” Coen told him as he dragged the vibrator down the length of Simon’s thigh.   
It took Simon a moment to obey, knowing what was to come, but he did. Working his feet across the mattress he spread his thighs as far apart as he could. 

Coen guided the vibrator along Simon’s cock, circling the head before he lightly ghosted over his balls. He coveted Simon’s reactions, watching his face as he used the vibrator to taunt him. 

Simon struggled to keep his hips against the bed, his muscles tensing and flexing as he strained to stay still. 

“How does it feel here?” Coen touched the plug with the vibrator knowing that Simon would feel the reverberation deep inside him.

Moaning incoherently, Simon’s hips jerked despite his efforts. His skin was dotted with a sheen of sweat. 

Coen loved the way Simon looked as he pulled against his restraints, chasing the pleasure despite the pain. He held the vibrator against the plug, absorbing the sounds that Simon made.

Simon started to beg, the words jumbled but the intent clear. His entire body shook and his cock was ramrod hard against his belly. 

“Do you want to come like this?” Coen asked.

“No,” Simon cried out, his head rocking back and forth. 

“Say it. Tell me what you want,” Coen ordered.

“Inside me,” Simon said, struggling to get the words out between gasps of pleasure. 

“You want to come with my cock inside you?” asked Coen.

Simon nodded. “Please Sir.” His entire body was tense, every ounce of his willpower holding back what wanted to escape. 

Coen turned off the vibrator and laid it aside. He stripped off his pajama pants and climbed on the bed to position himself between Simon’s legs. Coen carefully removed the butt plug and quickly replaced it with his cock, sliding into the tight heat of Simon’s body. 

Simon cried out, his legs closing to frame Coen’s hips. His body shuddered with relief, even as the new pleasure replaced the old. 

Sliding his arms under Simon’s legs, he rested them on his shoulders as he pushed harder and deeper inside his boy. He set a pounding pace; it was fast and rough and it was perfect. 

Each thrust of Coen’s hips forced a soft cry of pleasure to fall from Simon’s lips. He struggled to keep his eyes open but he did, his gaze never leaving Coen’s face.

Coen took hold of Simon’s cock and began to stroke it in the same relentless pace as his thrusts. “Come,” he growled breathlessly.

The sound of Coen’s voice hadn’t even died out when Simon came, his body releasing the moment he had permission. 

Continuing as Simon climaxed, Coen pulled out a moment later, fisting his cock until he came on Simon’s belly. He smiled even as he panted for breath. His boy looked perfectly debauched.

Exhausted, Simon finally let his eyes fall closed. “Thank you, Sir,’ he murmured softly. 

Coen gently lowered Simon’s legs and leaned over him. He kissed Simon and brushed the sweat-soaked hair off his forehead. “You are very welcome,” Coen replied before he released his boy from the cuffs. 

Simon pulled his arms down to his side, but didn’t expend the energy to move anything else. 

Coen checked Simon’s wrists. They were red, but there were no cuts or chafing. He laid beside Simon, caressing him and admiring his boy.

“You take good care of me,” Simon murmured, cracking his eyes open to look over at Coen. 

“It’s the least I can do since I’m the one who tortured you,” Coen smiled. “Can I get you anything? Something to drink?”

“That was pleasure, not torture,” Simon smiled. “Some water would be great.”

“Don’t move, I’ll be right back,” Coen told him before he left to go to the kitchen to get a bottle of water for Simon. He didn’t bother to get dressed before he went downstairs, a wide smile on his face as he hurried with his errand. Coen was anxious to get back to Simon and returned quickly with two bottles of water. He opened one and gave it to Simon. 

Simon pushed his way up into a sitting position, wincing slightly from the movement. “Thank you,” he said, sipping the water. 

“Rest a while then I’ll run a hot bath for you,” Coen told him. He leaned close and kissed Simon’s cheek. “You were perfect,” he said softly. 

“I’m not used to this,” Simon confessed, handing the water back to Coen.   
Coen was suddenly concerned. “Was I too hard on you?” he asked. 

“No,” Simon said immediately. “This stuff. The aftercare. The conversations. I like it.” 

“Oh…” Coen nodded. “I like it, too. I want to know how you’re feeling. Always.”

“And I like that it matters to you,” Simon said. “It means a lot to me.” 

Coen felt a pang of resentful anger for Simon’s former partner. He still wasn’t able to understand how anyone would push away someone like Simon, but he was grateful that he did. 

“It does matter. I’m sorry that there was a time in your life when you didn’t have that.”

“Don’t be. It’s what brought me to you,” Simon said, leaning over for a kiss. 

Coen lingered in the kiss. He hoped he would better for Simon. His boy’s confidence made him feel he could.

/ / / / /

Simon lazed around in bed the next morning, enjoying the fact that neither of them had somewhere to be. “I could get used to this,” he said, tugging Coen’s arm around his waist as they laid in bed with the bright morning sunshine streaming through the windows. 

“A boy of leisure,” Coen teased as he hugged Simon and nuzzled against his neck.

“Sundays are supposed to be lazy,” Simon pointed out. “Even for hard working folk.”

“True,” Coen agreed. “Sundays are the days when I try and do things that I might not have had time for during the work week.”

Simon sensed an opening to learn more about Coen. He was always eager to see bits and pieces of him come out the more time they spent together. “What kind of things? Relaxing things?”

“Sometimes,” Coen replied. “Drives out of town to visit friends or explore. Read a good book or watch a movie that I’ve been meaning to see. Take a long soak in the tub instead of the usual quick morning shower…”

“Soak in the tub?” Simon asked. “And here I thought you just had that installed for resale value.” 

“Oh no, a nice hot bath in a jacuzzi tub is one of life’s treasures,” Coen grinned. “I even have bubble bath.”

Simon shifted in Coen’s arms, rolling over to face him. “It’s like I don’t even know you!” he teased.

“What?” Coen laughed. “I’m an onion. I have layers.”

“If you say so,” Simon laughed. “So is this tub big enough for two? Or is that why you’ve kept this from me...single occupant only.”

“It’s big enough for both of us,” Coen suggested.

“You might persuade me to get out of bed if you have a nice hot bubble bath waiting,” Simon said, his hands stroking up Coen’s back. “Extra points if it has a naked Coen in it.” 

“Is that a challenge?” Coen asked as he pulled Simon against him. 

“I don’t know if challenge is the right word,” Simon said, his eye sparking from their playful banter. “Just pointing out what might be a nice relaxing Sunday activity.” 

“All right. I will leave you in our comfortable bed and go draw your bath, my pet,” Coen replied in haughty, but playful, tone. 

Simon pulled Coen in for a kiss before he playfully pushed him out of the bed. “Yes please.” 

“There is something wrong with this scenario,” Coen said as he crawled out of bed and shot Simon another smile. “Isn’t the boy supposed to do for his dom?”

Simon propped himself up on his elbow, a small crease forming on his forehead. “Do you want me to run your bath?” he asked. “I can do that.” 

Coen leaned over and ran his finger over Simon’s brow. “None of that. I was only teasing. Give me about ten minutes and then come join me.”

Catching Coen’s hand before he turned away, Simon brought it to his lips. “Thank you,” he said softly, kissing Simon’s hand. 

“My pleasure,” Coen replied with a smile before he disappeared into the adjoining bathroom.

Simon fell back against the bed and stared up at the ceiling. He wondered when he would manage to stop worrying so much. Every word, every gesture, every lack of word and gesture caused him to read into what might be going on in Coen’s brain. “He’s given you no reason to worry,” he whispered to himself. He reminded himself that if Coen wanted him to be different he’d say something. Coen wasn’t Samuel. Forcing those thoughts away, Simon managed to calm himself back down before he joined Coen in the bathroom. “That looks heavenly,” he said, sizing up the bath that the other man had prepared. 

“I decided on bath salts instead of bubble bath,” Coen explained. “They were a gift from one of my customers and she swears they are good for your skin.”

“They smell delicious.” Simon reached over and dragged his hand through the water. “Good choice.” 

“Tropical moonlight or something,” Coen waved his hand then climbed into the tub, slowly sinking into the warm, sweet-smelling water.

“In front or behind?” Simon asked, hesitating at the edge of the tub. 

“In front,” Coen told him as he held his hand up for Simon to use to steady himself as he got into the tub.

Taking Coen’s hand, Simon slipped into the tub. He settled down between Coen’s legs and leaned back against his chest. “Good?” he asked once they were all arranged. 

“Good,” Coen said with a smile before he dropped a kiss on Simon’s shoulder. “Is the water too warm?”

“I think it’s perfect. Is it what you like?’ he asked, ready to file away that information.

“Yes, that way I can stay in longer before it gets cold.” Coen reached for loofah, soaking it before he began to use it on Simon’s back and arms.

Simon leaned forward to give Coen better access to his back. “I could get used to doing this on Sundays.” 

“Me, too,” Coen murmured as he continued to wash Simon. He pressed his finger gently against a small bruise on Simon’s shoulder. “Did I do that?” he questioned. 

Simon looked over. “Yeah,” he said softly, examining the bruise. 

Coen bent his head to kiss the bruise. “I like that you don’t mind wearing my marks.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Simon asked, looking back over his shoulder at Coen. ‘Visual reminders of what you do to me every time I look in the mirror.” 

Lifting his hand, Coen held Simon’s chin as he kissed him. “You are so good to me,” he whispered.

“Am I good enough?” Simon murmured after the kiss, a moment of vulnerability sneaking through. “Are you getting what you need?”

“You are more than enough. You are perfect,” Coen replied. “I am very happy. And looking forward to exploring and sharing more with you.”

Simon hoped Coen was being honest. “And if you want something, you’ll ask, right?”

“I will. And I hope you will do the same.” 

Simon nodded and then turned back around and laid back against Coen’s chest. “I can tell you’ve been trying to make it all about me here at the start and I appreciate that attention.” 

“And you’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop,” Coen said softly next to Simon’s ear. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“I’m that transparent?” Simon asked. 

“I’ve been paying attention, remember?” Coen slipped his arms around Simon. “You experienced something that had an enormous impact on you. I didn’t expect you to just be over it in a few weeks.”

“You’ve been more than patient,” Simon said, grabbing the loofa as it floated by. “I worry you aren’t focusing enough on what you want.” 

“And I think you worry too much. If there is something that I want, I will talk to you about it. I promise,” Coen said. “What about you? Am I giving you what you want?”

“Absolutely,” Simon promised. “I’m thankful for you every day.” 

“But if there was something you needed . . .” Coen kissed Simon’s neck, his beard brushing against his damp skin as his hand slipped under the water to rest on Simon’s thigh. 

“You’ve taken care of everything,” Simon said, laying his head back on Simon’s shoulder. “Including taking care of me.” 

“To take care of you is something that I needed and you are giving that to me.” Coen kissed Simon’s neck again, this time gently raking his teeth across his boy’s skin.

“And marking me. That gives you pleasure,” Simon smiled.   
“Among other things,” Coen replied as his hand moved to Simon’s cock. 

“What kind of things,” Simon asked, his breath catching as Coen’s hand cradled his length.

“The way your skin flushes when you’re aroused.” Coen began stroking him as he kissed his neck again. 

Simon bent his knees so he could spread his thighs open. “What else?” he asked, hoping he wasn’t being too pushy. 

“I like to hear you moan. And beg,” Coen growled softly.

Reaching out to grab the side of the tub, Simon steadied himself with a death grip on the porcelain. “I like it when you take what you want from me. Use me,” Simon said softly. 

Coen pressed his forehead to the back of Simon’s neck and groaned softly. “And when you say things like that, it makes me want you more.” 

“Make me yours,” Simon said, urging him on. Coen’s possessiveness was a turn-on he never realized he had. 

“Out of the tub,” Coen ordered.

“Yes, Sir,” Simon breathed out, carefully standing up and crawling over the edge of the tub. He didn’t move any further, waiting for Coen’s next command. 

“Hands on the counter,” Coen continued as he got out of the tub and moved to stand behind Simon. He slid his hand up Simon’s neck and into his damp hair, tugging just enough to tilt Simon’s head back. “I am taking what I want from you,” Coen told him.

“Yes, Sir,” Simon repeated, bracing his hands on the counter. He instinctively spread his feet further apart and back in anticipation of what was to come. 

Coen rested a hand on Simon’s hip as he used the other hand to slide open a drawer. “Is this how you wanted me to use you?” he asked as he grabbed a bottle of lube. 

Simon nodded, watching in the mirror as Coen moved behind him. “I want you to take what you need,” he said, his cock throbbing with the thought. 

Using his feet, Coen nudged Simon’s legs further apart before he pressed his lube-slick fingers against his hole. “And what do you need?” he asked as he pushed inside his lover.

“To be what you need,” Simon answered honestly. “What you crave, what you desire,” he added more softly. 

“You know I desire you,” Coen murmured as he worked another finger inside his boy. “I think you know exactly what you do to me.” He looked at their reflection in the bathroom mirror, his gaze locking with Simon’s.

“And I don’t ever want that to change,” Simon said, meeting Coen’s gaze. If he hadn’t been already drifting into subspace he might worry about sounding needy, but in the moment baring his emotions to Coen like that felt right. 

Coen used the lube on his hand to slick his cock then watched his boy’s face in the mirror as he pushed inside him. “You’re mine,” he growled softly.

“Yes, yours,” Simon gasped out, squeezing his fingers around the edge of the counter as Coen bottomed out. 

Holding Simon by the hip and shoulder, Coen thrust harder inside him, pushing him against the counter. “Say it again,” he commanded.

“I’m yours,” Simon moaned, bending forward over the counter as Coen slammed against him. He felt utterly owned and it shoved him down completely into the fuzzy place in his head. 

Coen continued with his powerful thrusts, each one eliciting a sound from Simon. He pulled him up and back against him, his hand on Simon’s throat as he kissed him. 

Simon closed his eyes, his world narrowing to the feel of Coen’s hand at his throat and his cock splitting him open. He knew he would probably fall if Coen let go but he trusted the other man to keep him safe. 

“Mine,” Coen murmured against Simon’s lips before he released him. He reached around, taking hold of Simon’s cock. “Mine,” he said again as he started to stroke him with as much force as his thrusts.

Mumbling back incoherently, Simon whimpered with pleasure as Simon touched him. “Please let me come for you,” he gasped. “Let me show you what you do to me.” 

“Say please again,” Coen rasped. “My boy is so beautiful when he begs.”

“Please,” Simon begged. “I want to be good for you. Please let me come for you.” Simon trembled with the strength it took to hold on, his entire body taut as he waited for permission. 

“Do it. Come for me,” Coen ordered as he stared at the mirror to watch. 

Simon lifted his eyes to the mirror and let go, the sight of Coen’s pleasure at watching his pleasure heightening the waves that crashed over him. 

Coen kept his gaze focused on Simon’s face as he continued to move inside him. He released Simon’s spent cock to hold him at his hips with both hands as he took what he needed from his lover. 

The aftershocks of pleasure zinged along Simon’s spine as Coen had his way with him. This was what he’d craved, Simon taking what he wanted, using Simon for his own pleasure. He reached out to steady himself on the counter as his legs trembled. 

Finally, Coen groaned as he came, pressing his forehead against Simon’s shoulder. 

Simon stayed still, continuing to bask in the hazy pleasure of sub space. He reached back to touch Coen’s hip and turned his head to seek out a kiss. 

Coen lifted his head, his mouth finding Simon’s. “Mine,” he murmured the word again. 

“Yours,” Simon murmured into the kiss. “Absolutely and completely.” 

“I think we might need another bath,” Coen grinned.

“We can let some water out and run some fresh hot in there,” Simon said, his speech slightly slurred from the cloud of pleasure that still enveloped him. 

“I can do that. Here . . . sit.” Coen laid a towel over the tile on the seat and guided Simon over to it. Once he was sitting, Coen kissed him again, gently this time, without the force of their previous kisses. “You were perfect,” he whispered. 

Simon basked in the praise, content to sit and watch as Coen reran their bath. “If that is always how this will end I think we need to take more baths,” he said with a smile. 

“Agreed.” Coen smiled as he added some bubble bath to the swirling water. “Do you need something to drink?” he asked as he touched Simon’s face, caressing him softly.

Simon shook his head. “I’m ok for now. I’ll have some water when we’re done,” he said, turning his face to kiss Coen’s hand. He appreciated how much care Coen always took with him. 

“Let me help you,” Coen said when Simon stood to get back into the tub. 

Taking Coen’s hand, Simon carefully climbed back in the tub. He let Coen climb in after him and settle down and then he sat and laid back against Coen’s chest He sighed happily once he was pressed against Coen again, needing the contact after their intense coupling. 

Coen kissed Simon’s shoulder. “I’d apologize for the interruption to our bath, but it wouldn’t be the truth,” he confessed.

“I’m the one who should apologize,” Simon insisted. 

“Whatever for?” Coen asked with another kiss.

Simon smiled into the kiss. “We were suppose to be taking a relaxing bath. I provoked things.” 

Coen chuckled softly. “Things or me?” 

“You,” Simon said. He hesitated for a moment but then continued, not wanting to hold anything back. “It’s intoxicating to feel wanted like that. With that intensity.” 

“It is,” Coen agreed. “And you are . . . “ He dropped another kiss on Simon’s shoulder. “Wanted.”

‘And you are needed,” Simon whispered back. 

Coen ran his hand over Simon’s chest, letting the water drip through his fingers and fall on his boy’s skin. “Good,” he replied softly.


	10. Chapter 10

Coen leaned back in his office chair as he heard the first ring through his mobile phone. He hoped he wouldn’t interrupt Simon if he was at his job, but he couldn’t wait to talk to him. 

“Hello,” Simon said, the smile on his face coming through in his voice. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

“What does your schedule look like this evening? And the next few days?” Coen asked, wearing his own smile. The fact that Simon had sounded pleased with his call made him happy. 

“Evening is free, let me check my work calendar,” Simon said, tapping away at his keyboard. “Nothing earth shattering,” he said after a moment’s pause. “Why?”

“I have a business appointment in Amsterdam tomorrow. I fly out tonight and I would like you to go with me,” Coen explained. 

“Oh,” Simon said softly, “I didn’t know you were leaving town. I didn’t miss that conversation somewhere along the line, did I?”

“It was decided only ten minutes ago. I finished the call with my customer then I called you,” Coen replied. “If it’s not a good time for you, I understand,” he added, doing his best to disguise any disappointment. Coen hadn’t meant to pressure Simon into an inconvenient trip; he just didn’t want to be without him.

“That came out wrong,” Simon apologized. He reached up and swung his office door shut with a click. “I just panicked that I’d missed something and I felt bad.” 

“So do you think you can join me?” Coen asked in his best cajoling tone. 

“Of course,” Simon said. “Assuming you want me tagging along on your business trip.” 

“After the appointment tomorrow, I’ll be free. I thought we could extend the stay and do some sightseeing. Have you been to Amsterdam?”

“I haven’t,” Simon confirmed. “But I’m glad I put down that I was available for travel,” Simon said. “Not to mention I’d miss you if you were gone.” 

“Would you?” Coen asked softly, his smile widening at the thought that Simon wanted his company as much as he wanted his.

“I would.” Simon lowered his voice even though his door was shut. “And I wouldn’t want you running around Amsterdam without me. You might find someone appealing.” 

“More appealing than you? Impossible,” replied Coen. “The flight leaves at 7:30. Does that give you enough to time to get home and pack?”

Simon checked the time. “Yes. Do I need to pack anything specific?”

“Casual clothes mostly so you will be comfortable. One suit, so I can take you out to a good restaurant.” 

Simon jotted notes on his pad of paper out of habit. “Do I need to pack for you as well? Do you have things to wrap up at the office?”

“I’m leaving as soon as I finish talking with you,” Coen replied. “I will take care of the tickets and a car to the airport on my way. And Simon…” 

“Yes?” Simon asked when it was clear that Coen was waiting for him to respond.

“I am glad that you can go with me.”

“I’m glad you want me along, Sir,” Simon responded quietly. 

“See you soon,” Coen told him before ending the call. He got up from his chair, checking his desk one last time before leaving his office. Coen couldn’t remember the last time he had actually looked forward to a business trip. 

/ / / / /

Coen tipped the bellhop and thanked him when he’d finished with their luggage. He closed the door behind him and walked back into the main room where the bed was located. “Not bad,” Coen said as he looked around the room and walked over to join Simon who was looking out the large window at the view of Amsterdam at night. 

“Not bad?” Simon squeaked out, looking around the opulent room. “When I pictured ‘business trip’ I was expecting an economy hotel by the airport.” 

Chuckling softly as he slipped his arms around Simon’s waist from behind, Coen pulled him back against him. “No airport hotel for you, love. You deserve only the best,” he whispered next to Simon’s ear.

“I promise not to get in the way of your work,” Simon said, relaxing back against Coen’s chest. “It was so nice of you to let me join you.” 

“It was entirely selfish of me. I didn’t want to be without you. Not even for one night,” Coen confessed. He slid his hand up to Simon’s neck, caressing his skin before turning his face toward him for a kiss. 

Simon pressed into the kiss, winding his arms around Coen’s waist. “Your wish is my command,” he murmured when they parted. “I go where you go.” 

“You’re going to spoil me,” Coen smiled before kissing Simon again. “My appointment should be concluded by lunch then we can have some fun exploring the city.”

“Do you need to spend tonight preparing for the meeting?” Simon asked, running his hands up and down Coen’s back. 

Coen shook his head, his smile widening. “I emailed everything to the client yesterday. All that remains is the negotiation.” Coen loved the way Simon’s hands felt on him. He was an affectionate and tactile lover. 

“So I can spend tonight thanking you for bringing me along?” Simon said seductively.   
“Of course you can. I’d never refuse an offer like that,” Coen replied. 

Simon pressed another kiss to Coen’s lips and then slowly sank to his knees, looking hungrily up at the other man. 

Coen ran his fingers through Simon’s soft hair, meeting his lover’s dark-eyed gaze. He exhaled, his lips parted, the sight of his boy on his knees amping his desire. 

Simon deftly opened Coen’s belt and toyed with the fly of his trousers. He ran the back of his hand over the bulge that was evident there, just teasing with a light touch.

“I am enjoying the way you show your gratitude,” Coen smiled as he shrugged out of his suit coat and tossed it over the back of a nearby chair. 

“I have to be sure you’ll bring me along again in the future,” Simon smiled, working the fabric open and pushing Coen’s trousers down over his hips. 

Coen took a step back and sat on the end of the king sized bed. He slipped off his shoes as Simon helped him get rid of his trousers. “Now you,” Coen said softly as he started to unbutton Simon’s shirt. He wanted his boy nude so he could admire him while Simon “thanked” him. 

Simon relinquished control of the situation easily, letting Coen remove his shirt. He stood up long enough for Coen to move on to the rest of his clothes and then returned to his knees. “Better?” he asked as he ran his hands up Coen’s thighs. 

“Much better,” Coen replied, openly admiring Simon on his knees before him. “You are far too beautiful to keep under wraps.”

“As are you,” Simon murmured, wrapping his hand around Coen’s cock. “I’ll never tire of looking at you.” 

Coen moaned softly as Simon touched him. He appreciated Simon’s words of praise, but he always felt that he was the lucky one to win Simon. 

Continuing to stroke with his hand, Simon leaned forward and took the head of Coen’s cock between his lips. He started to lick and suck gently at first, letting Coen’s reactions drive the pace. 

Hissing with pleasure, Coen leaned forward and slipped his hand into Simon’s hair again. He didn’t apply any pressure or guidance; he wanted the connection to his boy.

Simon hummed with pleasure. He closed his eyes and focused on Coen, gradually taking more and more of his length in.   
Coen tilted his head, looking down between Simon’s legs to admire his lover’s erection. His boy was so sexy, sucking his cock and being turned on by it. 

Flicking his eyes up to watch Coen, Simon shifted his legs further apart when he saw what drew his lover’s attention. He didn’t break his rhythm even for a moment, consumed with his mission to bring Coen to the edge. 

Exhaling a soft groan, Coen tensed his thighs then relaxed again as Simon continued to suck him. “You’re amazing,” he breathed the words, tugging on Simon’s hair just enough so his boy would look up at him. “Do you want to finish me like this?”

Simon had to take a moment to catch his breath before he could speak. “Yes, Sir,” he said. 

Coen smiled and released his hold on Simon’s hair so he could return to his task. He let his head fall back as he closed his eyes, losing himself in the pleasure of the way his boy was thanking him.

Returning to his task, Simon used his hands to gently massage Coen’s balls as he slid his lips up and down Coen’s shaft. Taking in as much as he could Simon held still for a moment, just letting Coen’s cock bump against the back of his throat. 

An unintelligible sound spilled from Coen’s lips as his hips jerked in response to the way Simon was working his cock. “Close,” he murmured as he felt the pleasure coil in his center.

Simon started to move again, pushing Coen toward the edge. He used his hand and mouth in concert, stroking and sucking every inch. 

Coen leaned back, his fingers curling into the bed cover as he moaned Simon’s name and came down his boy’s throat.

Swallowing fast and hard Simon took every drop Coen had to give, his eyes watering as he waited to breathe until he was sure his lover’s climax was through. He sat back on his knees and looked up, letting Coen see the debauched look he’d caused. 

When Coen caught his breath, he looked at Simon and smiled with satisfaction. “You are so good at that,” he praised before leaning over to pull Simon up onto the bed with him. He rolled his boy onto his back and looked down at him, admiring Simon’s flushed cheeks and swollen lips. 

Simon moaned softly as Coen manhandled him into place on the bed. “I love doing that for you.” 

“Do you love it when I do that for you?” Coen asked softly as he rubbed his hand along the hard length of Simon’s cock.

“I love everything you do to me,” Simon confessed. “I’m addicted to you.” 

Coen smiled as he leaned closer and kissed Simon, sharing the taste of himself with his boy. He wondered if Simon had any idea what his words did to him, making him crave his lover even more than he already did. Coen slid down Simon’s body and took his cock into his mouth.

Simon spread his legs, wantonly showing Coen how much he wanted him. Moaning softly, he closed his eyes as Coen went to work. 

Taking his time, Coen slid his lips and tongue down the length of Simon’s cock then slowly pulled back letting them slide along the velvety skin. He teased the head, tonguing the slit before swallowing him down again. 

Curling his fingers against the bed, Simon was vocal in his appreciation, letting Coen know exactly how he felt. 

Coen rubbed his palm against Simon’s balls, caressing them as he sucked his cock. All of his senses were immersed in his boy - his taste, his scent, the softness of his skin and the sensuous sounds he made for Coen.

“Close,” Simon warned, the build up from sucking Coen off meaning he was there far earlier than he’d like. 

Pulling off just long enough to give his boy permission, Coen quickly returned to his goal of undoing his lover. 

Simon pushed up on his elbows, looking down the length of his torso to add the visual to the sensory. Coen looked up at him and it was enough to send him flying over the edge, his body as tight as a bow. 

Coen took everything that Simon gave him, kissing and licking him through the soft shivers as his boy came back down. 

Collapsing back against the bed, Simon watched Coen through lidded eyes. “That ‘thank you’ present ended up being pretty good for me.” 

“Mutual gratitude and gratification,” Coen grinned. 

“I”m glad you aren’t the type to get off on denying their sub completely,” Simon said, making room as Coen moved up to lay beside him. 

“I might delay, but I don’t usually deny. It’s too enjoyable for me to do that,” Coen told him as he nuzzled against Simon’s neck to breathe in his heady scent. 

“I appreciate that,” Simon murmured. “Yet another way we are compatible.” 

“Thank you for coming with me on this trip despite the extremely short notice.” Coen pulled Simon closer, still caressing him as they talked. 

“You know I’d do anything you asked, right?” Simon asked softly, closing his eyes as he relaxed into Coen’s touch. 

Coen exhaled slowly. “And you know that gives me a lot of power.”

Simon nodded. “You’ve never given me a reason not to trust you.” 

“And I hope I never will,” Coen replied.

Simon was quiet for a moment, lost in thought. “Does it scare you sometimes to have that power?

”Not having it, no. Abusing it, yes. I think any dom would occasionally have concerns.” Coen leaned up on one elbow to look down at Simon. “Does it scare you to give someone that power?”

“No,” Simon said, reaching up to touch Coen’s face. “I worry about it from time to time, but it doesn’t scare me.” 

“Do you worry because it’s happened to you before?” Coen asked quietly.

“No. All my scars are emotional, not physical,” Simon said with a wry smile. “I think it’s just natural that sometimes our mind plays a game of what if.”

“Inflicting emotional damage is power, too,” Coen pointed out.

“True,” Simon said, dropping his hand. “I’m not worried about it with you though.” 

Coen took hold of Simon’s hand, threading his fingers through his. “Good. I want you to know that you can trust me.”

Simon squeezed Coen’s hand. “This is far to heavy of a conversation to be having after a long day of work and travel. We should get some sleep, you have to work in the morning.” 

“Yes. Work first, then we can enjoy our stay,” Coen agreed. He leaned closer to give Simon a kiss. “Thank you for my thank you,” Coen grinned.

“You’re welcome,” Simon said softly. “Think we can leave our bags in a heap by the door and just stay in bed?”

“I should take my suit out for tomorrow,” Coen said with an exaggerated grimace.

“You stay put,” Simon said, tapping his hand on Coen’s chest. “I’ll take one for the team and hang it up.” 

“Are you sure?” Coen asked as he made no effort to move from his place on the bed.

“I’m sure,” Simon said, kissing Coen’s cheek and then crawling out of the bed. “Keep my spot warm.” 

“Thank you,” Coen said as he watched Simon walk away, admiring his boy’s derriere. “Your spot will be warm and ready for your return.”

“It better be,” Simon said, giving Coen one last grin before he disappeared around the corner. 

/ / / / /

Simon waved when he saw Coen step into the lobby of the hotel. “How was your meeting?” he asked as he stepped over to greet him. 

“Successful. Definitely worth the trip,” Coen replied before he gave Simon a kiss. “Did you miss me?”

“I did. Although sleeping in, working for a few hours, and then getting a massage wasn’t half bad,” he teased. 

Coen chuckled softly as he slipped his arm around Simon’s waist. “Ready to do some exploring?”

“I am.” Simon laid his hand on top of Coen’s where it rested at his waist. “On foot or do we need a taxi?”

“Let’s walk,” Coen replied. “The weather is really nice,” he said as he steered them toward the door. “I want to take you somewhere interesting.”

“Interesting?” Simon asked, staying close to Coen as they exited the hotel. “That’s an intriguing way to put it.”   
“Have you heard anything about Amsterdam’s Red Light District?” asked Coen.

“I have,” Simon said cautiously. He was sure that Coen hadn’t forgotten his limits, but it was still an odd question. “Is that where we are going?”

“Yes. I thought you might like to see it. And there are some fine shops there, too,” Coen told him. 

Simon exhaled softly, relaxing at Coen’s response. “Have you visited before?”

“Amsterdam? Or the shops?” Coen grinned. 

“The red light district in general,” Simon said as they waited to cross the street. 

“A few times. And only as an observer,” he added quickly. 

“Even in your younger, wilder days?” Simon teased. He didn’t know much about Coen’s past and he couldn’t help but fish for a tidbit. 

“Even then. I was a good lad. Not wild at all,” Coen replied. 

“If you say so,” Simon laughed. 

“No, really. Despite my proclivities, it was important for me to stay on the straight and narrow,” Coen said. “I didn’t want to do anything that would disappoint my father, you see. I’ve told you that we are close.”

“So responsible of you,” Simon said, admiring Coen’s profile. “But if you can’t let loose in Amsterdam, where can you?”

“London. Apparently.” Coen laughed as he grabbed Simon’s hand and pulled him along as they turned a corner. “There’s a sex shop I want you to see,” he said. 

“A sex shop?” Simon said, his voice squeaking slightly with surprise. 

“Yes. This one is for gay men only. They have everything you can imagine and a lot of things you wouldn’t imagine.” Coen kept hold of Simon’s hand as they crossed the street and went into a store with the words “Leather and Rubber” written above the storefront windows.

Simon’s eyes widened as he looked around. Coen was right, there was everything he could imagine. “This is like being in one of the rooms at the club only on steroids,” he said quietly. 

Coen agreed with a smile and a nod. “Ooh. Nipple clamps,” he said excitedly as he pointed to the display. 

“Kid in a candy store,” Simon muttered under his breath as he followed Coen over to the display. “See something you want me to model for you later?”

“Yes, please,” Coen replied as he pointed to a leather harness displayed on a mannequin. The harness was to be worn around the hips with a cock ring in front and a butt plug in back. “You would look lovely in that.” 

Simon reached up and stroked his finger down the impossibly chiseled abs on the plastic figure. “That’s a lot to live up to.” 

“And yet you do,” Coen said as he pulled Simon close and kissed his temple. 

Blushing, Simon examined the selection of plugs that fit the harness system. He gravitated toward one in particular, picking it up to test its weight and firmness. 

“I’m going to buy the harness. And you’re going to wear it for me,” Coen told him, whispering next to Simon’s ear.

Simon shivered. “Yes, Sir,” he whispered. “Does this one please you?” he asked, handing over the plug that had drawn his attention. 

“Yes,” Coen said as he weighed the plug in the palm of his hand. “I can’t wait to slide this inside you. My boy likes to be full, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, Sir,” Simon said, his breath catching with anticipation. He was amazed, as always, at how quickly Coen could provoke this type of response. From joking and teasing to full arousal in a heartbeat. 

“I knew we’d find something we liked,” Coen said as he kept the plug and selected one of the leather harnesses. 

“And we haven’t even really started to look around,” Simon pointed out. 

“Take your time and look around. You might find something you’d like,” Coen told him. 

“More than this?” Simon asked, touching the harness that Simon held. “Tall order.” 

Coen smiled as he looked over Simon’s shoulder. “There’s always the nipple clamps…”

Simon shook his head and smiled. “Cock ring, plug, and nipple rings? Are you trying to kill me?”   
“But what a way to go, yeah?” Coen teased. “How do you feel about rubber?” He pointed to the opposite wall where rubber masks and suits were displayed. 

Simon schooled his features carefully. “I’m not a huge fan. Is it something you like?” he asked, knowing full well he’d wear it at even the hint that it was something Coen wanted. 

“No, not really. I wore rubber gloves for a sub one time. They pulled the hair off my arm when I took them off.” Coen shook his head at the memory.

Smiling, Simon nudged up against Coen. “Once again a good match.” 

“The best,” Coen said with a smile. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Simon said, pretending to examine a rack of crops rather than look at Coen. 

“Of course you can,” Coen replied easily.

Simon took a deep breath. “Other than the first time we were together you’ve never used your playroom with me. But here we are looking at all this stuff. You want to scene with me, right? That’s part of what you want from our relationship?”

Coen looked at Simon. “It is something I want. I haven’t used the playroom because our bed has been our playroom, but I would like us to scene, too. If it’s something you want as well.”

“I’m not complaining about the bedroom,” Simon said, hoping he was being clear. “I just wanted to be sure there wasn’t some reason why you were avoiding the playroom with me. Scening in our room is fine if you prefer that.” 

“No reason. Other than my impatience to be with you,” Coen replied. “My only preference is being with you.” 

Simon nodded, satisfied. “It is three whole flights of stairs after all. We definitely would have trouble making it that far,” he said, lightening the tone. 

Coen laughed softly. He placed his hand on Simon’s hip and turned his lover toward him. “And please don’t ever be afraid to ask me anything. Or if there is something you want or need from me, I want you to tell me.”

“I’m still getting used to that, but I’m trying,” Simon promised.

“And you’re doing great,” Coen assured him. 

“What I want now is you to pick out something devious to use on me,” Simon said, nudging Coen on toward the rest of the store. “We can’t go home with just one item.” 

“Devious…” Coen murmurs the word with a smile as he starts to move away from Simon. “I think I know what I might want.”

“I think I might regret this,” Simon laughed, trailing along behind Coen. 

“There is something that I’ve never used on a boy.” Coen turned his head to look at Simon. “But I’ve always been interested in it.” He stopped in front of the chastity devices display.

Simon stepped in close to Coen, linking their arms together. “You don’t trust me when you are away?” he asked, his tone light to make it sure he was teasing. 

“Of course I trust you,” Coen replied. “It’s not about that, it’s knowing that I am in control.” 

“I like letting you be in control of me,” Simon said softly, squeezing Coen’s arm. 

“So you’d wear this for me? Knowing you can’t even touch yourself unless I allow it?” Coen asked quietly. 

Simon nodded. “I would. It would make me think about you even when we weren’t together.” 

“Perfect,” Coen said as he reached for one of the packages. “I want you to think of me. Think of me putting it on you and think of me taking it off.”

“And you’ll think of how needy I’ll be when it comes off? How I’ll be a trembling mess at your mercy?” Simon whispered, leaning in close. 

“Oh yes,” Coen replied with a soft moan. “We better make our purchase before I can’t stop the urge to demonstrate their wares.” He placed his hand on Simon’s lower back, keeping him close as they returned to the front where Coen paid for their finds.

Simon couldn’t help but smile to himself while Coen paid. He loved seeing how much Coen wanted him, it was a heady feeling. “I think we’re both glad I came on this trip,” he said once they were safely back out on the sidewalk.

“I am very glad,” Coen said before he pulled Simon close and kissed him soundly. 

Pushing into the kiss, Simon murmured with pleasure and contentment. “I could get used to this.” 

“You aren’t used to my kisses?” Coen smiled, brushing his lips against Simon’s one more time. 

“I am,” Simon smiled against Coen’s lips. “I could get used to traveling the world with you and going on lovely adventures in new cities.” 

Coen’s smile widened. “Good, because there are other places I would like to go with you. Some I’ve seen, some we can discover together.”

Simon took Coen’s hand as they started to walk again, already thinking about how he could free up more of his time to be available for Coen. The income from his real estate holding was starting to build his savings back up to the point where he could afford to not take on new clients for awhile. “Anywhere in particular you have in mind?”

“I’d like to visit the Dutch Caribbean. St. Maarten, of course, Aruba, Curacao,” Coen replied. “I think that would be an excellent trip to take when London is cold and gray.”

“Sun and sand,” Simon said, pleasantly surprised. “I’d agree to that in a heartbeat.” 

“Then let’s keep that in mind for this winter,” Coen told him. “Look…” he said as he pointed to the windows filled with sex workers, outlined with neon lights of red and blue. 

Simon let his attention be distracted from Coen for just a moment before deciding he liked what he had on his arm far better than the wares in the window. “I liked the first shop far better,” he said, leaning in against his lover. 

“So did I,” Coen said softly. “Someone told me that the different colors have meaning. Red for females. Blue for transgender. I’m not sure if that’s the truth.” 

“Interesting,” Simon said, pulling Coen’s arm around his waist as he leaned back against his chest to watch. 

They looked for a while, at the workers in the windows and the other window shoppers on the sidewalk. “I don’t see anything that can hold a candle to you,” Coen whispered next to Simon’s ear.

“I think you are biased,” Simon whispered back. “But I like that about you.” 

Coen laughed as he took Simon’s hand and led him down the sidewalk. “Are you hungry?” he asked.

“I am,” Simon said after a moment of thought. “Let me guess, you happen to know a great place that is conveniently just around the corner.” 

“Only if you want Italian,” Coen chuckled. 

Simon kissed him on the cheek. “Italian sounds lovely.” 

Hours later, Coen had Simon pressed against the wall of the elevator where he kissed him breathless. “You taste like tiramisu,” he murmured. 

“You taste like wine,” Simon giggled back. “Which makes sense given we polished off two bottles.” 

“It’s a celebration. You must drink wine when you celebrate,” Coen smiled, rubbing his thumb against Simon’s flushed cheek. 

“What are we celebrating?” Simon asked, his eyes shining with happiness. 

“I’m celebrating being with a beautiful boy, in a beautiful city,” Coen replied. 

“And I’m celebrating being with a Sir who treasures and respects me,” Simon said, kissing Coen again even as the doors dinged and opened. 

Coen blocked the elevator doors with his arm as they began to close again, but he didn’t break the kiss. He slipped his other arm around Simon and pulled him along as they exited the elevator. 

Simon stumbled and then laughed when Coen caught him easily. “Why are you not falling down like I am.” 

“I’m not sure,” Coen fibbed, knowing full well why his boy was tipsy. “But don’t worry, I won’t let you fall.” 

“I know,” Simon said. “Next time more wine for you and less for me.” 

“You didn’t like the wine?” Coen asked as he fumbled in his coat pocket for the key card to the room while keeping hold of Simon so he wouldn’t tip over.

“I loved the wine. Obviously. But you must have a higher tolerance.” Simon leaned against Coen and rested one hand against the wall. “It hit me once I stood up. Kissing didn’t help.” 

“Let’s get you inside where you can sit. I promise not to kiss you again until you feel better,” Coen soothed as he unlocked the door to their room and helped his tipsy lover inside.

“I feel fine,” Simon protested, letting Coen guide him to the bed. “Just wobbly.” 

“You’re cute when you’re wobbly,” Coen grinned as he slipped off his jacket then helped Simon with his.

“You’re cute all the time,” Simon said, his filter completely undone by the wine. 

Coen brushed the hair away from Simon’s forehead and looked into his eyes, his pupils dark from intoxication. “I’m flattered you think so,” he said softly. 

“So sexy. Powerful. Hypnotic,” Simon said, swaying towards Coen. 

“Whoa,” Coen murmured as he placed his hands on Simon’s shoulder to keep him upright where he was sitting on the bed. “Steady there, love,” he said. “No wobbling off the bed.”

“You’ll catch me,” Simon smiled, letting Coen set him back upright. “Can’t scene like this,” he said with a frown. “Next time I won’t touch the wine.” 

“I drank the wine, too,” Coen said. “We will have plenty of time to scene when we get home. I want you to enjoy yourself while we are on our trip.” 

“I am enjoying myself,” Simon said, sobering slightly from the delayed realization that he should have thought about what Coen might have wanted after dinner. “This has been the most amazing trip.” 

“And this was only the first day.” Coen bent to kiss him playfully on the tip of his nose.

“True,” Simon said, his eyes lighting up. “What do you have planned for tomorrow?”

“I thought we could take a canal cruise, do some sightseeing that way,” Coen replied as he began unbuttoning Simon’s shirt. 

“Do you have more meetings or were those just today?” Simon asked as he pliantly lifted his arms to let Coen undress him. 

“Today only. No more meetings. The next few days are just for us.” Coen knelt on the floor to take off Simon’s shoes and socks. 

Simon reached out and ran his fingers through Coen’s hair. “I get you all to myself?”

“All to yourself,” Coen echoed with a smile as he looked at Simon. “What are you going to do with me?”

“I’m going to be the best boy I can possibly be for you. You deserve it,” Simon said, tipping himself forward to give Coen a kiss.  
Coen caught Simon before he could fall off the bed and returned the kiss as he held him. “You are the best boy for me,” he murmured.

Simon grinned as Coen deposited him back on the bed, upright once more. “You need to get your clothes off too so we can both lay down. Safer that way.” 

“Let me take off your pants and then you can lie back,” Coen said, smiling at his intoxicated lover. 

Simon managed to unbuckle his own belt but then turned the rest over to Coen, finding it far more entertaining to occupy himself by kissing and nuzzling at the other man’s neck. 

“You are distracting me,” Coen said as he struggled to remove Simon’s pants. 

“I’ll stop if you tell me to,” Simon murmured. 

Coen grinned as he let Simon’s pants fall to the floor. “I don’t want you to stop,” he confessed. “But let me get undressed so I can join you.”

“Yes please,” Simon said, laying back and then wiggling his way up the bed. 

Chuckling softly at his adorable lover, Coen undressed quickly and crawled onto the bed to be with him.

“Better,” Simon said, snuggling into Coen’s arms and resuming his earlier activities. 

“Are you still feeling wobbly?” Coen asked as he embraced Simon.

“Not enough to stop kissing you,” Simon murmured against Coen’s neck. His face would burn in the morning from the scratch of Coen’s beard but he didn’t care. 

Coen slid his fingers into Simon’s soft hair and turned his face toward him. “I never want you to stop kissing me.”

“That can be arranged,” Simon said softly their faces just inches apart. 

Coen stared at Simon for a long moment then kissed him, pulling his lover against them as their passion deepened.

Simon rolled onto his back, pulling Coen on top of him as they continued to kiss. The haziness he’d felt earlier was gone as his entire focus shifted to how Coen’s body felt pressed up against him. 

Settling between Simon’s legs, Coen moved against him and moaned in their kiss. He took hold of Simon’s wrist, stretching first one arm then the other over his head on the bed, never breaking their kiss.

Leaving his hands where Coen placed them, Simon wrapped his lower leg around the back of Coen’s calf and pulled him closer. 

Coen pulled away, smiling down at Simon. “Leave your arms above your head,” he ordered as his hand slid down Simon’s thigh. 

“Yes, Sir,” Simon said, twisting his fingers into the sheets to hold on. 

“I will leave you here, but only for a moment. I need to get the lube,” Coen explained. “Keep those arms over your head,” he reminded as he began to pull away.

Simon watched him go. Not being restrained by anything other than his own willpower meant that he didn’t get the bit of panic that always came from being left alone while bound. He did shiver slightly at the loss of Coen’s body head and he was happy to see him return quickly. 

“I really must learn to stash this stuff everywhere I want to fuck you,” Coen said with a soft laugh. “Which is almost everywhere actually,” he added as he returned to where he was before he had to leave. “You look so good like this. Stretched out and waiting for me. So lovely.”

“Or order me to stay prepped for you all the time,” Simon said, spreading his legs in invitation. 

Coen groaned softly at the thought. “You’d do that for me, love? Because you want to please me?” 

“I would,” Simon said, his body aching with the need for Coen’s touch. “You’d never have to wait to have me.” 

“But you are worth waiting for,” Coen said as he poured the lube onto his fingers and slid them along the cleft of Simon’s ass. He watched Simon’s expression as he circled the sensitive area and then pushed inside him. “And I like the way you feel, warm and wanting.” 

Simon stared up at Coen, entranced by both his words and his fingers. ‘Needy,” he added, “Craving you.” 

Coen smiled as he pushed another finger inside his lover. “Say it again,” he whispered.

“I need you,” Simon said, digging his heels into the bed and pushing down on Coen’s fingers. “Only you.” 

Removing his fingers and slicking his cock, Coen hurried to be inside Simon. He held him at the hips, Simon’s legs pushed up and hooked around Coen’s waist as he moved inside him.

Simon locked his arms in place, resisting the overwhelming urge to reach down and touch. Coen’s hands were steady and sure on his hips, just what he needed to keep himself grounded. 

Coen took hold of Simon’s cock and began stroking him. “You feel so good,” he told his lover. 

Letting the praise soak through him, Simon moaned softly with pleasure. “You take care of me better than anyone ever has,” he said, an admission he might not have made out loud if the alcohol hadn’t lowered his inhibitions. 

“I’ll always take care of you,” Coen said, his hand moving faster to match the rhythm of his thrusts.

Simon gave up trying to hold back the gasps and moans of pleasure, closing his eyes and tipping his head back against the bed. 

Coen watched Simon’s reactions, adjusting his thrusts until his lover was trembling with sensation. 

“Please,” Simon begged, his head thrashing against the sheets. “Please let me come for you,” he said, his voice strained with the effort to hold on. 

“Wait…” Coen rasped. “Almost there.” 

Simon held his breath, willing his body to behave. His toes curled in anticipation, every muscles in his body tensing up as he waited for permission. 

“Now,” Coen groaned as he came, still stroking Simon. 

Simon felt Coen release deep inside him before the words even processed. He curled up, lifting his head to look at his Sir as he shook with pleasure. 

Coen’s gaze locked with Simon’s as he came. He waited for Simon to drift back before he eased out of him and laid beside him. Coen moved Simon’s outstretched arms down and kissed him. 

Letting Coen move him around, Simon rolled onto his side and into the kiss. “I meant what I said,” he whispered. “You take care of me better than anyone ever has.” 

“And I meant what I said. I always will, if you let me,” Coen replied as he held Simon close, caressing his skin and kissing him again.

“As long as you let me take care of you too,” Simon murmured into the kiss. 

“But you are, don’t you know that? You came with me on this trip. You let me get you drunk and ravish you,” Coen teased.

“You put up with a boy that drank too much wine and had to be helped home,” Simon said with a hint of guilt in his voice. 

“I had a wonderful dinner and shared the company of my boy,” Coen countered. He kissed Simon again. “Thank you for coming with me.”

“I would have been miserable at home without you,” Simon confessed. “So I’m glad you brought me.” 

Coen grinned. “I would have missed you, too.”

“This bed is far too big for one person to properly enjoy,” Simon teased. “You would have gotten lost in here without me.” 

“That’s a fair point,” Coen agreed. “We should stay close together just in case.”

“I like the sound of that,” Simon said, wrapping his arms around Coen. “This way I can get my fill of touching you, since I didn’t get to earlier.” 

“You were so good for me,” Coen praised as he helped them get between the sheets and settled in next to Simon again.

“Trust me, you don’t make it easy,” Simon said, snuggling closer. “But I always try my hardest.” 

“And that is what makes you so good for me,” Coen said softly.

“Keep that in mind when you get that harness out,” Simon mumbled sleepily. “I can’t promise miracles.” 

Coen smiled even though Simon couldn’t see him. “I will,” he promised.


	11. Chapter 11

Coen finished his coffee and stood up to rinse his cup. He was drying his hands when he leaned against the counter and looked at Simon with a smile. 

“Do you remember when you told me that you would make yourself ready and meet me at the door when I came home?” asked Coen.

Simon looked up over the papers he was reading, his body immediately responding to Coen’s words. “I do,” he said quietly, setting the papers aside. 

“I’d like you to do that for me this evening. I’ll be home at 6. I want you to wear your new harness with the cock ring and butt plug,” Coen instructed. 

Nodding, Simon stood up from the table and carried his cup to the sink. “Yes, Sir,” he said once he was beside Coen. 

Coen reached out and slid his hand into the hair at Simon’s nape. “I look forward to seeing you in it,” he said as he gently tugged Simon’s head back so that he could kiss him. He never seemed to get enough of his lover.

Simon sank into the kiss, moaning softly as Coen tugged his hair. 

“Mmmm,” Coen murmured with a smile as he looked into Simon’s eyes. “I have something to look forward to this evening.” 

“As do I,” Simon said. “You do know I’ll get nothing done today thinking about what’s to come.” 

“That’s one of the best parts.” Coen kissed him again before pulling away. “Have a good day!” he called over his shoulder as he headed out the door. 

Simon watched him go, a huge smile plastered on his face. 

When Coen opened the front door that evening he was met with what he’d been anticipated all day - Simon on his knees presenting and wearing nothing but the requested harness. He looked even more perfect than Coen had imagined. 

He closed the door and approached his boy, resting his hand on Simon’s head then caressing his cheek before tilting his face upward so that Coen could meet his gaze. 

“How do you like your new harness?” he asked. 

“It’s just right,” Simon said, looking up to meet Coen’s gaze. “You picked the perfect thing.” 

“And you look perfect wearing it,” Coen praised. “It’s very tempting just to have my way with you right here on the floor, but I can be patient. Let’s go to the playroom.”

Slightly surprised, Simon quickly nodded. He stayed put on the floor, waiting for Coen to lead the way. 

Coen loosened his tie as he descended the stairs then paused at the doorway to his playroom to unlock it. He swung the door opened and gestured for Simon to enter before him, taking the opportunity to squeeze his boy’s butt cheek as he passed.

“Stand by the bench,” Coen instructed, pointing it out before he turned to close the door to the playroom. 

Simon did as he was told, taking a quick look around as he crossed the room. He ran his fingers down the bench, his fingers skating along the cold leather before clasping his hands behind his back and lower his eyes to the floor. 

Coen shrugged out of his suit coat and draped it and his tie over the back seat of nearby chair. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt as he approached Simon from behind. Coen wrapped an arm around Simon’s waist and pulled him back against his chest to whisper in his ear as his free hand caressed the leather harness around his hips. “How does wearing this make you feel?” 

Simon shivered from Coen’s feather light touch. “Owned. Filled. Like every nerve ending is on alert waiting for you,” he answered. 

Tilting Simon’s head to the side, Coen kissed his neck and shoulder then sucked the tender skin hard enough to leave a bruise. “You are owned, you’re mine,” he said while his hand slid down to his cock, his fingers caressing the ring around it. 

“All of me,” Simon confirmed, leaning back against Coen’s chest. 

“Bend over the bench,” Coen told him as he took a step back. 

Simon shifted forward, arranging himself on the bench as Coen had asked. He spread his legs and lifted his ass, presenting himself for Coen’s use. 

Coen indulged himself by giving Simon’s delectable ass another squeeze before he stepped away to select his instrument. He looked at the crops and canes, but decided on a flogger with soft leather fronds. Returning to his boy, Coen dragged the fronds over Simon’s ass. 

Simon closed his eyes and gripped the bench tighter. His body was taut with anticipation of what was to come. 

Without a word or any warning, Coen struck the first blow. Pink stripes appeared on Simon’s skin. Coen hit him again on the other butt cheek, leaving matching marks. 

Gasping, Simon jerked when the first blow landed but then settled into the rhythm that Coen created.

Coen hit Simon again, alternating the hits from cheek to cheek. He paused to run his hand over the warm, reddened skin and delved his fingers along the cleft to rub the plug in his ass. 

Simon moaned, grinding his hips as Coen shifted the plug. His cock was trapped against the bench and ringed in metal, no relief was to be found. 

“Mine,” Coen said as he pressed his body against Simon’s, the fabric of his trousers rough against the abused skin beneath him. 

Moaning again, Simon answered back “yours” immediately. He forced his body to stay still, his body tight with the tension it took not to push back against Coen. 

“Can you feel how hard I am for you?” Coen asked.

“Yes,” Simon said, his voice muffled against the bench. “You feel so good.” 

“Do you want me inside you?” 

“Please, Sir,” Simon begged, lifting his hips up and back, helplessly unable to resist any longer. 

Coen twisted the plug slowly as he removed it, his cock twitching with the need to be inside his boy. He set the plug aside and quickly unzipped his trousers to release his aching erection. He didn’t want to wait another minute. Pressing the head of his cock against Simon’s hole, he pushed inside his lover’s stretched entrance easily. 

Simon shook with pleasure as Coen entered him, his body finally getting what it had wanted since the moment he’d put the plug in. 

Moving carefully at first, Coen set a slow pace. He squeezed Simon’s sore ass as he pushed inside him and whispered words of praise about how good it felt to be inside him.

Soaking up Coen’s touch and praise, Simon let everything roll over him. He murmured back words of thanks and need, knowing Coen would take care of him. 

Soon Coen’s thrusts became faster, harder. He hooked his hands over Simon’s shoulder as he pushed deeped inside him, claiming him over and over with each jerk of his hips. Far too soon, Coen felt the white hot spark of his orgasm as he came with a cry, pressing into Simon as his cock pulsed with release. 

Simon’s breath caught as he felt Coen release inside him. He held perfectly still despite his own desperate need to let Coen come down in his own time. 

Breathing hard, Coen eased out of Simon and tucked his cock back inside his trousers and zipped them. “Let go of the bench,” he told Simon. 

Simon let go but didn’t move any further, shaking his hands out to release the tension. 

Coen pulled him back, lifting him and setting him on the bench. He knew his boy’s ass was sore, but he planned to do something that would take his mind off that. Coen reached for the cock ring and turned it as he looked at Simon’s face. “Let’s get rid of this now, shall we?”

Simon couldn’t help but moan softly as Coen teased him, the ring biting into his cock. “Please, Sir,” he said softly, the strain evident in his voice. 

Leaning in, Coen kissed Simon hungrily as he removed the cock ring. He stroked his lover’s cock and enjoyed the sounds that Simon made against his lips. 

Practically screaming into the kiss, Simon fisting his hands into tight balls as he tried to push back the swell of arousal that pulsed through him as the pressure was released. 

Coen pulled back to stare at Simon’s kiss swollen lips and flushed cheeks. “Come for me,” he rasped, his hand working Simon’s cock faster. 

Locking eyes with Coen, Simon let go of everything he’d been holding back and spilled over Coen’s hand with a sharp cry. 

Slowly easing his lover down, Coen leaned in again for another kiss as Simon tried to catch his breath. 

Simon met the kiss hungrily, leaning into Coen for support. 

When they finished kissing, Coen pushed the hair away from Simon’s face so he could look into his eyes. “Think you can stand?” he asked softly.

Simon nodded. “Just help me up?” he asked, holding out his hand. 

“I’m right here,” Coen promised as he held Simon’s hand and slipped his arm around his waist to help him over to the couch. “Can you kneel on the couch? I want to take a look at your bum.”

“I can,” Simon said, already shifting into position. “But it’s fine, I promise.” 

“Indulge me, love,” Coen smiled as he examined his boy’s bottom for bruising or cuts. “I want to put some cream on it,” he said. “But that can wait for a minute,” Coen continued as he sat down next to Simon, still touching and petting him. 

“I think you like this part almost as much as the other part,” Simon murmured, Coen’s touch relaxing him. 

“I do like taking care of you. You don’t mind, do you?” Coen smiled.

“Not at all,” Simon said softly. He closed his eyes and laid his head on Coen’s shoulder. “In fact I’m growing quite fond of it.” 

“Good, because I’m growing quite fond of you,” Coen said quietly.

Simon smiled, and closed his eyes, content to rest for now. 

/ / / / / 

Simon yawned and checked the clock. It was barely 2pm but he was having trouble focusing. Smiling he thought back to the night before and the reason he was running on just a little bit of sleep. He’d just decided on an early afternoon cup of coffee when his phone rang. 

“I was just thinking about you,” he said, leaning back in his chair to take the call. 

“Were you? What were you thinking?” Coen asked in an encouraging tone.

“I was thinking about how tired I am today. And remembering why I was so tired. And whose fault that was,” Simon laughed. 

“But no regrets, I hope?” asked Coen.

“Never,” Simon promised. “And nothing a cup of coffee won’t fix.” 

“Good,” Coen replied, his voice affectionate. “I called because I have a favor to ask.”

“A favor?” Simon asked, sitting up straight. That was an unusual choice of words for Coen. 

“A last minute invitation to a party at R.A.C.K. tonight,” Coen explained. “I received the paper invitation weeks ago and must have misplaced it, but Reid just called to check with me and I couldn’t refuse.” 

“Play party or purely social gathering? Simon asked, swiveling around to dig his calendar out of his bag.  
“Social. Of course, those who want to play, will play,” Coen laughed softly. “I think it might be an anniversary or something.”

Flipping open his calendar, Simon scanned down to today’s date. “I don’t have any plans, did you want to grab dinner first?” 

“No need. Reid assured me that there would be plenty of food and to come with an appetite,” Coen replied. “Can I meet you at the house?”

“Sure. I”ll want to run home and change anyway.” Simon started to close his calendar but his eyes were drawn to the red circle that was just a few days away. “What time?”

“I should be home by six,” Coen told him.

“Six it is,” Simon agreed, a little distracted.. “And I might make it two cups of coffee to be sure I’m fully prepared for late night socializing.” 

“We won’t stay too late. I know my boy needs his beauty sleep,” Coen assured. 

Simon shook his head even though Coen couldn’t see him. “Says the cause of most of my sleepless nights.” 

Coen laughed. “See you later.”

“Looking forward to it,” Simon said before clicking off the call. His calendar still lay open on the desk and the red circle seemed to glow. He’d lost track of the days...maybe Coen had too? Neither of them had made mention of their contract since they signed it. Simon had assumed that was a good thing, but he also had to admit that it probably wasn’t healthy for them to have not checked in with one another. He wondered if Coen had a similar calendar somewhere. Some sort of reminder. 

His computer dinged with the sound of a new email and it broke his train of thought. He grabbed his coffee cup and stood up, determined to get back to work and quit obsessing about the state of their relationship. 

/ / / / / 

Coen shook Reid’s hand and thanked him again for the invitation to the party which was still in full swing despite the later hour. He’d been caught by a client who wanted to talk about business despite the unbusiness-like setting and then he’d run into Reid and had to express his appreciation. During all this, he’d lost track of Simon. He hoped he was having an enjoyable time despite his companion’s inattentiveness. 

Moving through the small groups of people filling every room and hallway of the club, Coen scanned the bar area in search of Simon. He spotted him, Simon’s back turned toward the entry. Coen began to wind his way toward him through the crowd, but stopped short when he saw another man standing near Simon, his head bent as if kissing him. 

Coen stopped, momentarily frozen in his tracks by what he was witnessing. The man with Simon was his former lover, Samuel. 

Turning around, Coen quickly made his way out of the bar and walked toward the other side of the club. Disbelief at what he’d just seen clouded his mind. He simply couldn’t understand why Simon would be with Samuel, the man who had treated him like nothing and set him aside when he’d grown tired of Simon. How could he let another man kiss him when he was Coen’s?

Coen snagged a glass of champagne from a passing waiter with a large tray. He downed the sparkling wine in one gulp and tried to think of anything except the fact that his boy was with another man. 

Hadn’t he been good to Simon? Weren’t they good together? Simon had seemed happy, their lives settling into an enjoyable routine. Coen had never been one to think of settling down with one man, but Simon had changed that for him. Now the tables were turned and he was the one who was not wanted. 

Simon reached out and touched Coen’s arm just as he reached for another glass. “Let me,” he said, leaning in to be heard over the crowd. He plucked two glasses from the tray and handed one to Coen. “Business matters all settled?”

Coen took the glass, staring at Simon as if he would somehow be different now. “Yes. All settled,” he said before drinking half the champagne in his glass. 

Simon smiled. “Must have been a rough conversation,” he said, watching Coen drink. 

“It’s fine,” Coen said with a slight shrug. “I owe you an apology though . . .” The words felt like ash in Coen’s mouth. “For neglecting you.”

“I understand. After all that’s how we met, right? Talking business at a party.” Simon sipped his champagne. “Contacts are everything, right?”

Coen nodded as he stared at Simon. “Contacts are important,” he agreed. He finished his champagne and set the glass aside. “Were you ready to leave? Or did you want to stay a while longer?” 

“It’s up to you,” Simon said, looking carefully at Coen. “You haven’t really had a chance to enjoy yourself.”  
“I have a bit of a headache,” Coen lied. Nothing about this party had been enjoyable and he was more than ready to escape it. 

“Okay,” Simon said, sliding his hand along Coen’s back and gently rubbing back and forth. “I’ll go call for the car.” 

“Thank you,” Coen murmured, feeling guilty for the lie yet relieved to be leaving. Another problem awaited him - what would he say to Simon? 

/ / / / /

Simon stood in the shower longer than normal letting the hot water beat down on his head. He was trying to keep himself from going into full panic mode, but so far his efforts weren’t working. Every time he closed his eyes he could see that red circle mocking him. And now Coen was acting strange. The headache excuse had rung false to him, and the awkward silence during the ride home hadn’t helped. Coen had gone right to bed and was already downstairs when Simon woke up. 

And then as if things weren’t bad enough there was his encounter with Samuel. He’d zeroed in on him like a heat seeking missile the moment he’d stepped away from Coen. Sighing, Simon reached over and turned off the water. Literally drowning his worries wasn’t going to help.

“Coffee smells good,” he said, lingering in the doorway to the kitchen. “Thanks for getting it started.” 

“You’re welcome,” Coen replied, no hint of his usual smile. 

Simon watched him work for a moment before crossing the room to fix his cup. “Head better this morning?”

“About that . . .” Coen said slowly as he turned in his seat to look at Simon. “I owe you another apology. I didn’t really have a headache.” 

Placing his spoon in the sink, Simon turned and leaned back against the counter. “I thought that might be the case,” he said, keeping his tone as neutral as possible. “Is everything okay?”

“I thought it was,” Coen replied evenly. “Until I saw you with Samuel last night.”

“Ugh,” Simon sighed. “Can you believe his nerve? You probably weren’t even across the room before he was all up on me wanting to know how I was.” 

Coen frowned as he looked at Simon. “He must have liked your answer since he kissed you.”

“What?” Simon said, practically dropping his coffee cup. 

“Samuel kissed you. I saw you both in the bar.” Coen sighed and got to his feet. “Please do me the courtesy of not telling me that I don’t know what I saw.” 

“I’m sorry but that’s one order I won’t obey,” Simon said angrily. “Samuel _tried_ to kiss me. _Tried._ I stopped him and told him to get his hands off me. He doesn’t get to touch me. He doesn’t get to kiss me. Only you get to do that. Or maybe ‘got to’ is the better way to say it since you are making it pretty clear you don’t plan on extending our contract.” The words hurt, but the anger made them come out anyway. How could Coen think he would do that?

“How have I made that clear?” asked Coen.

Simon took a deep breath and let everything tumble out. “Well to start with you believed I’d do something like that...and with someone who was so awful to me. And then rather than say something you’ve basically ignored me and refused to speak to me since then. And you had to know it was time to talk about it, but you haven’t said a word. Why else would you be distancing yourself?” 

Coen sighed again, shaking his head as he took a step toward Simon. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have believed it and I should have said something to you when I saw him,” he said quietly. “But you’re wrong to think I was ignoring you and that I’ve been distancing myself. I couldn’t say what I’d hope to say, so I didn’t say anything.” Coen reached in his pants pocket and pulled out a silver chain. “If I wanted to distance myself, why would I want to give you a collar and ask you to be my boy?” 

Stumbling backwards, Simon found his legs weren’t supporting him any more. His coffee sloshed out of the cup before he managed to set it on the counter. “That’s not fair,” he said softly. “You can’t accuse me of cheating on you in one breath and pull out a collar in the next.” 

“I did not accuse you of cheating. I thought I’d lost you. That you wanted to go back to him,” Coen countered. “I’ve had the collar for a week now, very aware of our contract date.” 

Steadier now, but still keeping a death grip on the edge of the counter, Simon’s eyes fixed on the silver chain. “Why would I ever do that when I could have you?”

“That is what I couldn’t understand. I couldn’t understand why you would want him. He can’t possibly love you as much as I do.” 

Pushing forward, Simon closed the gap between them. “He treated me like shit. And I was too blind to see it. But now I know what it feels like to be cherished and valued,” he said, looking up at Coen. “And loved.” 

Coen wrapped his arm around Simon’s waist and kissed him. “So will you be my boy?” he whispered against Simon’s lips.

“I will,” Simon said, his emotions causing him to choke up. “Promise not to doubt me?”

“Never again,” Coen replied. He lifted the silver chain in his hand. “Let me put this on you.” 

Simon pulled away just enough to give Coen room to slip the chain around his neck. 

“I hope you like it. I didn’t want anything to clunky or heavy,” Coen explained. “I wanted to show off your graceful neck,” he said as he caressed Simon’s neck. “There’s a small plate near the clasp where I had our names engraved.”

“I love it,” Simon said softly. “And I love that you put thought into it.” He reached up to touch the metal that was still cool against his skin. 

Coen covered his boy’s fingers with his own. “I love you, Simon.”

Simon tipped his head up and gave Coen a kiss. “I love you too,” he murmured. “Even though you made me spend the last twelve hours in freak-out mode.” 

“Would it help to know that I was in that mode, too?” Coen asked with a chagrined smile.

“Maybe a little,” Simon smiled. “Samuel came after me because he said I looked so happy and healthy that I was simply irresistible. That’s all thanks you to you. He said I was almost unrecognizable and that’s because I’m not the same person I was when I was with him.” 

“He had his chance and he let you go. He won’t get another one,” Coen said as his arms tightened around Simon. “You’re mine. Now and always.”

“And I wouldn’t want it any other way,” Simon said, resting his head on Coen’s shoulder. 

/ / / / /

Epilogue

Six months later . . .

Coen heard the sound of the keys in the front door lock and hurried to meet his partner as he came into the house. He smiled as he reached for Simon’s umbrella when he was safely inside the door. 

“It’s still bucketing down out there,” he commented as he closed the door and stowed the umbrella. 

“”It is. A right dreary day,” Simon said, leaning in to give Coen a kiss.

“You make it brighter,” Coen whispered before stealing another kiss. The past months with Simon had been the happiest of his life. Coen had thought he was happy and had everything he needed before he met Simon, but now he knew that wasn’t the truth. His life was now truly complete with the addition of his new lover. 

“Let me get out of my coat before you get all wet,” Simon murmured into the kiss. 

Coen took a step back to let Simon shrug out of his sopping raincoat. “I bought something today,” he said with an easy grin. 

“A new investment property?” Simon asked, hanging his coat in the closet. 

“No. Something for us. Something for you,” Coen said mysteriously. “It’s in the lounge,” he added as he took hold of Simon’s hand when he was finished with his raincoat.

Simon looked at Coen strangely but squeezed his hand and followed him out of the kitchen. 

Coen reached into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out a blindfold. He held it up for Simon to see, the mischievous grin still on his face. “Indulge me?”

“Always,” Simon chucked. He stepped closer so Coen could reach, closing his eyes in anticipation of the darkness.  
Laying the smooth, silk cloth over Simon’s closed eyes, Coen tied it at the back of his head. He wrapped an arm around his boy’s waist and gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek before he guided him into the lounge. “I was at one of my buildings today and saw it and I had to have it,” Coen explained. He stopped walking when they were standing in front of the art piece on the wall. It was the painting Simon had been staring at when Coen first met him at the party. 

“And when you want something you get it,” Simon said, resting his hands on Simon’s arm where it circled his waist. 

“Something like that,” Coen laughed softly as he untied the blindfold and told Simon to open his eyes. 

Simon blinked a few times until the painting came into focus. He turned around and wrapped his arms around Coen’s neck. “Colors or shapes?” he asked softly. 

“Shapes. Definitely shapes,” Coen replied, echoing their first conversation about the painting. “Do you like it?” 

“I love it,’ Simon said, his eyes shining with happiness. “And I love you.”

“I love you,” Coen whispered, coveting the Simon’s smile and content in their life together. 

 

THE END


End file.
